Tuesday, August 24, 2010

TSLHT

Maybe three years ago, one of my friends, I can't remember who, exactly, gave me a pretty little red and blue clay heart. I put the heart in my car, where I felt happy every time I saw it. Several months later, on a return trip back to my hometown, I was running errands with my dad and sister - we took two cars because we had to drop one off - and my dad sat in the front seat. Somehow, my little heart fell on the ground without my noticing.

I did notice, however, that my dad was mushing together something in his hands as he sat in the front seat. I asked him what he was doing, and he showed me a purple clump, told me I needed to clean out my car.

Enraged, I swerved to the shoulder, grabbed my deformed heart from my father's calloused hands, and pushed him out of the car door, never to see him again. Just kidding. But I did ask if he LOOKED at the heart before he went all Play-Doh Destruction Force on it (he said no).

Sheepishly, he tried to mold my once-perfect heart into its former glory. He stuck it on my dashboard, where, after harsh frozen winters and the heat of summer, it is now permanently melded.



4 comments:

lngarcia said...

i'm pretty sure i gave you the heart...
i think.

L.D. Alford said...

Things are never more important than people, but sometimes the things convey emotions beyond their original scope. I have a drawerfull of "things" my children made me. They are meaningless in themselves, but lost become a small tragedy.

Emily said...

LG- I think you did give me the heart. And if so, now you know ... "i carry your heart (i carry it in my heart)" :)

Chelsea Anne said...

haha I can picture your dad perfectly in this setting haha