I think of you every time I see a similar make and model, a perfect photograph in vibrant detail, or have finished off an intense debate with close friends and family. But I'm letting go, placing you safely in a box -- a compartment inside my head. No longer the first thing I think of when I dream of larger things, deeper connection, and the simple want for more.
I can't be suspended within this vortex of need even one day longer because I have to move on. The decision is made. Reality sinks in. And I will pause to remember the truth of it...
That people come in and out of life for a reason. And every interlude matters.
Some touch us deeply and stay within reach for years, while other encounters are brief, too brief. Yet poignant. Nothing can match the gifts that are exchanged, the changes in perception, the illumination of human need, love, desire. Duration does not make one iota of difference nor does it lessen impact. You gave me impact. Consideration. Introspection.
And if one day I run into you, my hope is that I gave you some of the same. Happiness. Peace. Family. So, consider this a bill of sale. One last, long look at a priceless interlude. And yes, you're an old one, but I was always told that they don't make them like they used to. And I have to agree.
'56 Packard. Red Leather Seats. Memories Optional.
