I donated Miss Daisy today. Thirteen years (with me; I got her when she was four), 217,000 miles, so many long drives to schools and conferences and bookstores and soccer games and vacation destinations and camping and canoeing trips and family trips to Mississippi and back, so many sheltering rides in good times and bad, and all the times inbetween.
Thank you, Miss Daisy. It was so hard to let you go. At first I couldn’t watch — I came back inside. I burst into tears. I grabbed my camera. I could at least stand watch as you left, wave goodbye one last time, blow kisses, tell you it would be all right, and honor your passing.
I let go the last piece of my old life when you wagged down the road away from me. Maybe that’s what the tears are for. You will be just fine. May you teach some young folks how to refurbish a grand old dame. May you find a home with someone who really needs you, the way I really needed you, lo these many years.
Go gently, old girl. All is well.
