keep art alive; art by sas christian(from my work-in-progress
something)she tells me we turned the corner, veering off the main drag and away from the sign for the ferry. there was the bumps in the road that we had to slow down for, the ticket booth with the boy my mom probably flirted with, and then the search for an open spot. this i remember, too, though probably not from that day; my mother talked to the cars as if they were people, reminding them of things they might want to leave for, coercing them to find their way anywhere but where she was trying to park. my mother had a way of making the inanimate real, and the smallest of objects significant, and the cars like anything else were something else for her to subject her emotions on. a car left to her delight, the credit given to her power of suggestion, and we pulled in. old maggie the light blue oldsmobile rattled a little when you turned her off, my mom running her hand gently across the dash cooing love words to her in hopes that she would keep on keeping on,
"take a breather, old girl. enjoy the ocean air".lucy.
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