It’s just a truck…

by

Faded-yellow, rusted, old.

A remnant from when my kids were younger.

They used to push it around the yard and make noises like an engine.

They used to fill it with rocks and dirt then dump it out.

It’s just a truck.

But today, when I walked by it in the far corner of our yard, I was struck by the fact that I’ve kept it all these years. Me…someone who constantly cleans out and gives things away…I still have this truck.

This faded-yellow, rusted truck.

And as I thought about it, I realized

it’s more than a truck…

It’s summertime laughter in the backyard.

It’s popsicles and sandboxes and running around in bare feet.

It’s arms reaching up, calling, “Mama,” in sweet two-year-old voices.

It’s play dates and a yard filled with giggles

and swimming

and cries

and scraped knees.

It’s babies, and toddlers, and kids,

and moms,

gathered together,

sharing,

playing,

loving. 

I stood there and looked at that truck

and smiled,

remembering,

and knowing I really should give it away.

But then I thought…

maybe it’s too battered and rusty to give to someone else.

Maybe I’ll just hang onto it for a little while longer.

In case my niece or nephews want to play with it when they are over.

Just in case. :)