Dinosaur With Headphones

Despite being as forgettable as most days, today was sort of interesting. On my way home I saw a car that I haven't seen in over a decade. It was a sky blue 1992 Ford Taurus station wagon. My first car. It was a strange shot to my eyes as I sat at a red light. It brought into my brain all the rides, all the trips, all the passengers. My high school life brought back in a flash. The tapes I made to play in the tape deck.

I remember the day I sold the car. A woman working at a Chinese restaurant called and asked to see it, so I drove to the restaurant to show it to her. I was asking $500 for it, in the hopes of getting $250 or so because it was surely not worth much more. I talked with this strange woman for about 5 minutes or so. I don't remember the whole conversation, but I remember hearing she was a single mother of two. I remember that her insecure awkward body language mixed with her words led me to believe that she might not actually have a fixed home at the moment. We spoke briefly to each other and then she pulled out a wad of cash and tried to hand me $500. I said I couldn't take $500 because I'd only asked for that much in hopes of getting half. I sold the car to her for $200. I was 18 years old, but every day since I wish I'd given it to her for free. Such is the value of memories, I suppose.

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The other day my niece told me she missed me, so I told her we'd start a book club. I was around her age when I first read Of Mice And Men. I told her to get a copy of it and we'd each read a chapter a day and discuss each chapter. She read the first chapter today and I was very impressed with her insights/questions.

Glimpses of sharing something with someone... Yes, today I remembered, by its shadows, what sharing is like.

Two pictures I took with a non-digital camera back in high school of my niece and me:

I miss that umbrella. It was destroyed during my first trip to Ireland.

Strangely enough, when I first went to Ireland one of the only books I took with me was The Winter Of Our Discontent, and it got destroyed too. I remember the exact day and how it happened, and I remember the river I tossed its remains in to. Ah well. Just umbrellas and books.

I've been destroyed too. I remember the day. The day she didn't say it back... I just haven't been tossed in to the river yet.