Standard

June 12, 2013

There has been a standard pick up truck around all my life.  Pappaw's truck is the color that makes you think of the ocean- seaweed green, tawny blue.  The inside smells exactly like it did when I was a little girl and he took me out for a ride: rusty and dusty.  The seat  and dashboard was covered in working gloves, wires, oil-rags.  So he taught me how to drive a standard and I suppose that's a good thing to know how to do- especially since I'm going to try to get my license sometime in the end of August.  We went out into the field and I gave it a try.  I had literally two minutes of prep talk and let's just say it would have helped to know how to work the brake.  You know.  Honestly, when I got back into an automatic, I clutched the steering wheel and waited for the vehicle to lurch forward... it didn't and I remembered I wasn't in the pick up.  I've got so much to learn.


It's been three weeks since I've been home.  It's funny how you forget the smell of your home, the habits of people around you until you seem them again.  Then in a tumble there's the smell of swimsuits, water, tea, and summer.  And then it's like oh yeah- I remember this.  It's home.  This is standard.

Yours.

3 comments:

  1. Gabby,

    I find it hard to understand the fact that you're incredibly talented at writing.
    Your words slipped and spilled off my screen as if I was reading from the earth's best selling, most beautifully-written, coffee and dog-eared book that belongs to my heart.

    Your writing speaks to me. When I read your writing I feel like I finally understand what has been in my heart all that while.

    I love the way you laced the meaning of 'standard' together; two similar but heart-aching stories.

    (I honestly mean all I say.)

    xx


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  2. Acacia is so right {as always}. I honestly, won't even try to describe how beautiful this is. you are a writer, m'dear, with a beautiful mind and a beautiful heart and a beautiful soul. and your talent for being able to portray, honest and heart-felt, stories is just breath-taking in itself.

    thank you for blessing us with your heart, dearheart.
    love you so much and so blessed to call you my dearest of friends.
    xx | goosey

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  3. Oh, You're gettin' so darn good at pulling your thoughts and pictures together!!
    . . . Serendipity. That's what this post makes me think of.
    and, just, gah. This is another one of those posts that reminds me that we all have similar experiences; I suddenly remember my dad's green truck, the smell, and how I felt when we clambered back there.
    Hehe, it's not only the smell I relize I've forgotten, once I lglanced down at the carpet and had the quick thought "Has our carpet always had that pattern? It has! Hello carpet!" and I could have given it hug. =)

    And; the light in that tea is marvelous. And, I've never had the pleasure to drive a standard, but I do know that familar lurch! And, lastly, for reals, my glasses are almost the exact shape as yours! o.o and really, I do like my glasses.

    Lovely Gabs!

    xx ~Jenny

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