That old jeep
A beautiful featured post by Katie Wilhelm
When I talked to him, he told me he sold his car. I had been telling him to sell that thing for years. It was older than we were, falling apart and hardly manageable behind the wheel. But he loved that old car. Never complained once about its strange noises or low coolant levels (whatever that means, we never knew).
We kissed for the first time in that car. That car was the beginning of what continues to be the most significant relationship I’ve ever had with anyone. It was in that car that I fell in love with him. Through the stormy summer nights parked in my drive way and the painfully early mornings we had to embrace to say goodbye, that car saw it all.
It was in that car where I watched him sing his favorite songs without a proper note in sight, but with all the happiness in the world. Red lights were our opportunity to remember each other if only for a moment, to take our eyes off the road and onto each other. I’d lean over and kiss him and keep kissing him, sometimes a few seconds into the green light.
We held hands in that car, sometimes struggling to make a one handed turn, but it was worth it because there was no greater feeling that his strong hand intertwined with mine.
It was in that car where we got frustrated, and couldn’t find our way to the restaurant, where we drove off into starry night only to find ourselves lost without a GPS signal to be reached. But there was no such thing as lost when I was with him.
That car was a place of love. We were always alone in that car; it was a safe haven for us to just be together and show our true selves, with no judging eyes or desires to please anyone but each other.
It was in that car that I experienced more love than I’d ever felt in my entire life. And now it is gone.
It is time to leave that car and it’s memories in the past, because that is all they are now: memories. I can’t make any of them relevant again. And no matter how hard you try, you cannot relive a memory.
So the car is gone, our love is over and the past is in the past. I don’t know if I’ll ever fall in love in a car again, but maybe it’s just more sacred that way.
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