You can be childlike without being childish. A child always wants to have fun. Ask yourself, “Am I having fun?” (Christopher Meloni)
I watched as my beloved Toyota was being towed away. Her replacement existed. Among a few possibilities. Nevertheless, Little Beige and I had seen many miles together. We fit old-sneaker comfortably; until that last crashing moment I knew what to expect. She didn’t complain when one of the kids spilled drinks on her back seat. I knew how her few buttons worked.
Now, I wait as my husband and the used car salesman work out the final details. Jay has a business degree, as well as a knack for checking out the facts. I listen, unaware that my granddaughter, Ella, has also been listening.
As Jay and the dealer leave the building for some checks on his car, Ella takes over the salesman’s chair.
“What kind of car do you want?” she asks.
“Green with an orange steering wheel.”
“We can do that.” She pauses. “I will have to make it.”
After a few arm swirls, she hands me the invisible product. “Do you need anything else?”
“How about a truck? Purple.”
Once again, the request is no problem. One item costs me $54.56. The other costs $56.56.
She laughs when I ask for a tractor complete with farmer. So does a fellow customer at the next desk.
Before Jay and the salesman return I am also the proud owner of a motorcycle and yellow school bus. Fortunately, the imagination doesn’t limit size. It doesn’t care about the age of user or seller either.
“We can go home and play now, Ella,” I tell her.
The day lilies by our driveway have dried by afternoon. The morning dew has evaporated. Each hour has its cost and its gift. I’d like to say I have forgotten about the fearful moment when I knew my 2005 Toyota had breathed its last breath.
Yet, somehow, I survived. Each minute brings something different—both pleasant and miserable.
Ella and I play. The sun rises and sets. We are part of a larger whole. A whole I may never understand until my life is completed, and perhaps not by then. After all, knowledge isn’t my goal; love is.
terrypetersen 