Obituary for My Car

Pontiac Sunfire, 14, died in his home on January 9, 2010 of natural causes.


There will be no service.


Sunfire was adopted from Sundance Chevrolet on June 14, 1999. He was well-loved by his owner all the days of his life. He enjoyed long drives through the country and sitting idle while waiting for his family. Sunfire lived in Michigan, working in private transportation, until 2006 when he relocated his family to North Carolina. He enjoyed a low-roadsalt life there until 2009 when circumstances led him back to Michigan. He continued 6 faithful months of daily driving until his health began to fail in November of 2009. It wasn't long after an extensive radiator replacement that he just couldn't hold on any longer. He died in his sleep from a broken head gasket. Doctors did not recommend life support.


Sunfire is survived by his owner, her 2 children, and her cat who will all miss him terribly.

Reflections on a Lone Flower

I took a walk in the woods today. And as I picked my way across the occasional strewn boulder or exposed root, I contemplated new beginnings and new life -and my life. I do this every spring. I know, cliche. Hardly the topic for riveting reading.

I looked for something in nature to express how I have been feeling lately. I pondered a stream that wandered through rocky banks and half-exposed trees. It gurgled contentedly at me and swirled a wayward leaf.

I paused and photograhed a bald, lanky tree that had fallen into a neighboring sapling, causing it to grow crookedly, accomodating the dead weight. The friction of tree-on-tree groaned at me with a passing breeze.

Then I noticed something in my path. I almost missed it, actually, almost stepped on it, crushing it with my size sevens. Upon further research I found it to be Houstonia serphyllifolia, otherwise known as Thymeleaf Bluet. This dainty wildflower is everywhere in the woods, but never alone. It always has the company of many others of its kind. Seeing a solitary bloom thrust through a carpet of moss caught my attention.

This miniature invasion to the worn footpath sums up nicely how I have been feeling of late. A unique creature, surrounded by a different species. Separated from others of its kind. Blown by the wind to an isolated location, left to thrive in a spot where it can be stepped on, kicked over, crushed by a wayward passerby.

I resisted the urge to claw into the moss and underlying soil to free it from its precarious location. Would my interference save the delicate bloom or cause its demise? Will the inevitable foot traffic snap the stem, cutting it off from its water supply? I told myself I was being rediculous, it's only one of thousands, an insignificant weed.

I trekked on, conflicted, but not looking back. In hindsite I should have saved it and transplanted it alongside its family. Maybe that would give my situation some hope, myself some anticipation of survival. But I am being rediculous. After all, I am no delicate flower.