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Gratefulness
Who wouldn’t choose the just-washed white of this Aspire scripted with eighteen small miles on a speedometer that flips its lottery digits beside the accordion-stretched map we play into each added-bonus state of our prize-winning itinerary?
All hail Economy and her deceptively large leg room, her exceptionally parked body, her 35-miles-per-gallon city-sipping Vroom-Vroom-Vroom!
Bless her undented fenders, her souvenir-proportioned trunk. We are old and in love with the non-leather seats, windshield wipers that work up a beat, doors that open each time to AAA approval.
If we drive long enough across this uncalculated country, how can she not follow us home? How can she not, remembering the miles of our affection, forget how little we paid?
© 2013 by Marjorie Maddox from Local News from Someplace Else (Wipf and Stock, 2013) and used by kind permission of the author.
The self you leave behind is only a skin you have outgrown. Don’t grieve for…
Let’s thank our mistakes, let’s bless them for their humanity, their terribly weak chins. We…
—for Papa Sitting on the deck by the river hushed and soft with the light…
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