Love In The Parking Lot
To the remarkable individual driving this Soccer-Tank, I wanted to take a sincere and thoughtful moment to thank you for parking this behemoth on top of my tiny beat up old Civic, repeatedly, with an ever-encroaching shift, closer to my driver’s side door, day after day. Thank you. From the bottom of my bruised shins, and the top of my sore clavicle. The physical gymnastics required to climb into my car keep me in shape. You could hardly imagine. Dealing with the short, small bursts of childish anger it causes helps me keep my dharma practice in good shape as well. I am truly blessed. From the lump on my forehead, to the bloodstain through my button up at my left elbow. I imagine I could park elsewhere, but see - there you go - I am so stubborn and rude, (I’ve really had to reassess myself here) the thought enters my mind and – poof – I think, (occasionally aloud as I scrape myself across the wedge of open door) “Well! Why should I give up my spot so thi