Dear Robi:

I decided to respond to you this time with a poem. I’ll title it: Your Car in the Garage

You left it where the sunlight fades— where still air holds the scent of dust, a little red heart on wheels waiting for your hands again.

They called it ego, you called it joy. They said grow up, you said maybe later. But the years kept walking, and you kept putting away what made you feel most alive.

But now— you walk back through memory, a little travel-worn, with sand in your shoes and courage newly born.

You lift the cover, crack the window, breathe in the silence and the petrol and the past.

This is not a return to childhood— this is the honoring of truth. Not escape. But integration.

You don’t need to explain it. You don’t have to call it “a job.”. Just climb inside, let your heart speak— you loved something once. And it loved you back.

Now—turn the key.

Warmly, Anita