Friday, May 15, 2009

Every heart is Much the Same The Same Chambers Fed By Veins

photo by sally mann

Dear Sarah,

There are so many stories and sunbeams bottled up on your insides. You may have held even as many as my childhood. Sliding through snow packed side streets, inching along and collecting friends and mittens along your way. Loaded up to your top with wood, canvas, and staple guns and coming home months later with oil paintings the size of tables. I think you prefered the slick black or bumpy concrete tickling your toes and giving you purpose. To the grocery. To work with those ferocious and forgotten children. To philadelphia and davidson and asheville and back again. You knew me at my best and at my freest. in the dark driving away or in my bikini with boxes in your trunk and coming out the windows. and you also knew me when I was fragile. when I feared the most. Shaking against the wheel and feverishly talking to myself.

you had your share of bangs and scraps i couldn't afford to mend. levers and lightbulbs. a rusty door hinge and superglued windshield wiper. i would sigh to myself and apologize for not repairing them sooner. then, months later, look them over lovingly and remind you they gave you a story. like a keepsake or a photo album.

How silly of me, and how true to my character…covering you with my favorite things. Orange smelling bubbles and Finger puppets and a valetines day card with red and blue dots, the card that blocked the dashboard so I couldn’t see you didn’t have any oil. Now there it was, a hole blown in your motor the size of a flashlight and you sputtering and refusing to go.

I don’t blame you.

So I sold you south to guatamala, to someone who I think will bring you culture and undoubted adventure.

And though I must admit you looked quite finished, covered in pollen and cardboard shoved in your sides, I was sorry to see you go. Blurting out to him at the final minute that you had a name and so many stories. And though he couldn’t fit the syllables smoothly between his teeth he said you ahd a soul, so I trusted him with you.

I know most people (and even me sometimes) think its absurb to name inanimate objects. Reminds me of knitting sweaters for your dog or a guy who pops his polos shirt collars and listens to an ipod. its weird. Quirky. Materialistic. But I do think when we do name things, its because they have given us something in return. Some companionship or hint of humanity at its best.

So I will say goodbye and tell you, what I would hope to tell anyone who was my close companion. my favorite. My reminder of the best of humanity.

You heard the secrets I wouldn’t have told anyone else….and didn’t flinch.

You were so strong and said the scars only helped to tell the story.

You brought me to where I needed to be.

mayo, la carretera se levantan



At 12:43 PM, Blogger n8rlvr said...

cómo es encantador

At 3:02 PM, Blogger Rachel said...

I just had to say goodbye to my beautiful (though unnamed) car last week. This is beautiful, and so true, and makes me feel better about my attachment.
-Rachel Jenkins


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