Sitting at the stoplight, my husband behind me in the car we just picked up, having lent it to a friend. You and I bought this car together - it is 20+ years old. You didn’t want to buy it, you were against buying new cars. But you’d had new cars before - I never had, so I wanted it, I didn’t care about the depreciation because I knew I’d be the only owner the car ever has. I knew because it was - and still is - the only car I have ever liked. Watching the car behind me, at a certain distance it could have been you. I burst into tears, of course. I wonder if the priest who married us is still alive, if I should call him and talk about you to him, and maybe hear what he has to say about grief, and if there is any possibility you’re still around though neither of us believe, have never believed. On the radio, Coldplay sings about Jerusalem bells a ringing,
Day 129
Day 129
Day 129
Sitting at the stoplight, my husband behind me in the car we just picked up, having lent it to a friend. You and I bought this car together - it is 20+ years old. You didn’t want to buy it, you were against buying new cars. But you’d had new cars before - I never had, so I wanted it, I didn’t care about the depreciation because I knew I’d be the only owner the car ever has. I knew because it was - and still is - the only car I have ever liked. Watching the car behind me, at a certain distance it could have been you. I burst into tears, of course. I wonder if the priest who married us is still alive, if I should call him and talk about you to him, and maybe hear what he has to say about grief, and if there is any possibility you’re still around though neither of us believe, have never believed. On the radio, Coldplay sings about Jerusalem bells a ringing,