Crying in the Car

Crying in the car my last place of refuge. Can’t go in the house because it has to many memories. Can’t get out of the car because I will be too exposed and bare for all the world to see. So I sit here with the music humming and my tears stream down my face. I sit here knowing that it will pass. It has before. This car has been my refuge. The one place where the tears and sobs can erupt without interruption, without explanation. The car does not try to hug me, it does not try to comfort. It lets me be to work it out. This car knows that I will be okay and doesn’t get mad if I need to shrug it away. There are times when a hug is too much and a simple touch hurts.This car does not care that I don’t say I love you. It sits and lets me be. And the tears pass and life continues on and I shut the car off and take the key, shut the door and leave. The car sits waiting for the next time it is needed. It doesn’t demand a smile, a hug, or words. It just lets me be. Sometimes that is what I need. A quiet face with no words, and no needs. Someone who will just let me cry, quietly standing by, waiting for the storm to end. But people want to touch and people want to talk and people need. So for now my car is my refuge where tears and fears can flow free. No need to fix them, just let them be.

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