I had to say goodbye to an old friend recently.
Not the friend you might be thinking of.
This friend never spoke to me, even though I treated it pretty badly at times.
Very badly, but never a complaint.
This is my friend.
A truck. But not any truck, my truck. And, I had to let it go recently. 203,150 miles and it said, I am tired.
I sat there and stared at that truck for awhile. 12 years together. The ironic part, which blew my mind, the truck died on the same day I bought it.
I am not one for coincidences, but that is just unreal.
As I walked away, I went back and remembered what all had happened in that truck.
-Me and my then sister-in-law spent 30 minutes trying to buckle in a car seat so I could bring my little man home from the hospital.
-Picking up my mom in our last Christmas together and we went all over town shopping and she was so happy to be riding around, visiting old places she had long forgotten.
-Sitting in that same truck after she passed away and crying for 30 minutes before I could turn the ignition.
-Picking up my daughter in Mississippi and driving down to Destin for a week together and watching her fall asleep in the front seat as the ocean air hit her beautiful face.
-Four-wheeling with my son in the blizzard of 2016 when we threw his sled in the back and were gone for hours, finding hills all over Nashville to sled.
I could go on and on but remember, it is not just our hearts and minds that carry around our memories.
Sometimes, it is a simple truck.