Charlie

Today, I find myself tearfully saying goodbye to an old friend, Charlie the Chevy. It may be strange to cry over losing a car, and maybe even stranger when one considers Charlie’s age, but I can’t help it. He’s been a reliable, steadying presence in my life for a decade. He’s been a friend.

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In ten years of change, drama, and instability, Charlie was always there– strong, dependable, solid– like a rock. He was in the background as I fell deeply in love and planned an eternity with my ex husband, and he drove me to court to get divorced. Charlie brought my dog child into my life and delivered my Timmycat to his final resting place.

While safely buckled into my little blue truck, I heard of the birth of my K baby and rejoiced. Over the years, he has overheard many sing-a-longs, jokes, and discussions; he could also bear witness of countless spoken prayers and tears during long drives in the country. I have changed Charlie’s oil, pushed him out of snow drifts, and performed major dashboard surgery. I have slept under the stars in his bed and driven him on spontaneous mountain adventures. In short: I have loved him.

When my life fell apart and I left the place where the stars live, it was Charlie who carried me onward. In that moment, he became a symbol of resilience. When I stuffed my hopes into old suitcases and relocated solo across the country, Charlie kept me moving, and along the way he came to represent independence and optimism. He has been there during the most turbulent times of my life, and he has always delivered me safely to the other side of heartache and struggle.

My reasons for retiring Charlie are sound; I love my job and my life, and there will be other great cars in my future– but there will never be another little blue truck quite like Charlie.  He is my friend, and I will miss him. Thanks for the ride, old pal.

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