I'll be the first to admit, I was never aware of the blessed life I had lived. I never treasured what I had. Better yet, who I had.
Vain as Mother could be, and she was very much a strutting model, I was very much loved.
I was assured I was beautiful no matter a pair of knobby knees and tiny irises of cross eye. (It was a severe condition, moving on).
I clung desperately to my Dad's first 1980's Dodge. There was the recreation and some better models bought over some years or kept from pre-releases. 20 o 9 at least, or 90's rather, same kind of shape in a more compact, rounded roof but there was nothing like that one.
It didn't have the same jostle in the front seats or warmth at your bottom. Not the sickly cling of orange perfume and expensive foreign oils.
Then, I promise here and now... I Harley Scott appreciate my lot in life. I am blessed. I'd been blessed to be so spoiled, I'd been blessed to have a Dad who'd taken my side even when I lied and whined to no end.
What I wouldn't give to have that back.
What I would give to have the Dodge back rather than some square and hideously beige Camary that belonged to a mid-forties picket fence homemaker.
Why hadn't I realized it wasn't a car that kept him going back to her dealership?
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Cinder-saster
Ficción GeneralThere was once a man whose dutiful work made him very wealthy. He ran a car manufacturer of high demand and quality assurance. However his true wealth was in a vivacious wife and a darling daughter whose beauty... Bleh! Boring! Based! Harley Scott i...
