We moved on Christmas Eve, the year I turned five. Nettie bought my brother a stack of used 45's, me a yard sale tricycle and we got a patch of grass with some woods in front of the apartment. This after having a huge back and front yard in the house James - my father - built for us. Nettie told me if I peddled good and slow I could go anywhere I wanted. "Anywhere I wanted" extended only to the patch of grass and woods in front of the apartment but still, it was freedom. A five year old's version of the "open road". That was probably the last vehicle I got really attached to, until my green Cavalier which I bought in 2001 brand new and totaled in 2010. I cried at the car lot when getting my things out of it. Her poor little bumper hanging off her face like a broken smile.
We love what we love. For some people it's the first grade crush, or the ninth grade crush. For others, it's a tricycle, the wrong guy or the New York Mets. For some of us, it's unreachable; something we've maybe never even had before. And we know that even if we reach it, pull it close, and make it ours, it won't last. It won't but we keep on. It doesn't matter if it's a tricycle, or the wrong guy, or the New York Mets, It doesn't matter what we reach for. What matters...is the reaching.
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