She Chose Me

“Has she let you go yet?” I was asked.

“No, not yet,” was my reply.

The right person will come along, I think to myself.

Eventually. When she decides.

I knew when I first laid eyes on her she was something. I’ll never forget my pal, Irma hiking her skirt up to climb the ladder in the boatyard for a peak inside.

“She’s a treasure!” she exclaimed.

Little did I know how long my love affair would last.

Today I have concluded. If she hadn’t of picked me, where would she be?
I remember the state of her insides when we first met. The sad face of neglect. Everywhere.

Yet, underneath, the power and the pleasure of a one-of-a-kind.

Years later I learn her history. The original owner’s story. Her second and her third’s. Each holding onto her for a decade and some. Coming up nine years for me.

Each day I leave I tell her to stay safe. I thank her for being my home.

I’m told by friends to stop screening buyers. Those not in the know I do not reply.

These days I’m feeling bad about her condition. Last year’s bicycle accident didn’t allow for our yearly maintenance. It’s starting to show.

I ask her to forgive me.

She says she will. She knows I’ll take care of her come spring.

It’s hard for me to tell her now.
"Darling, it’s time I let you go. My bicycles and I need more room. There’s someone out there that will love you like I."

But again I am reminded.

She chose me.