It's just an old beat up truck.
Nothing more.
It's nothing
but it means so much.
There's too many memories.
I watch in silence
as she tries to switch gears
with a frustrated attitude.
She yanks the gear shift back
trying to shift into second.
I set my hand on her arm
Hey,
She looks up and stops.
Clutch in and ease into second.
She takes a deep breath and starts back in first.
She shifts into second easily now.
I smile
and stay in silence.
She cruises down through the field
and I set my hand on her arm again.
She looks up as the truck slows.
I tell her it'll all be okay
and that she's doing great.
Which is true.
I tell her I love her.
Because this is just another memory to add with this
old beat truck.
The same one I've been told that I should trade in.
But it means so much more than getting a new truck.