I've heard it said that the innocence of childhood is over the moment you know one day you have to die. I think about that five year old boy, stooped next to his grief stricken mother, picking up the broken remains of the car his father died in the night before.
Broken glass in a cheap cup. Stifled tears. Mangled and broken pieces of a 1955 Chevy they all loved...as much as they could carry.
He used to sit in the engine compartment while his father worked on that car. Both wearing their bandanas and white t-shirts. He loved the smell under that hood. Loved to watch his father work.
The glass looked green, shattered and spread across the dirt. Cars passed by like nothing had ever happened. He didn't understand it, but he knew that one day he too had to die.
One by one they all left. He waited his turn. He wondered how it would happen, wondered if he would see it coming, but he never let go of what little innocence he had left. He guarded it fiercely. He never strayed too far from her side. It was all he knew.
It was all he had left.
-Restless Regards
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