PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

When I was a kid, maybe between six and seven years old, my grandfather had a 1979 Ford pick-up truck. You are possibly wondering what is so incredible about a truck; well for starters it was yellow. When my mom was a little girl, the whole family made road trips, and the truck’s bed was full of pillows, food and laughs. My memories are a little bit different. My grandpa only used his truck on weekends. Everytime I saw the yellow truck outside my house I immediately knew what was the deal. My grandpa and I used to drive outside of town to “El Barrial” and once we got off the highway he would let me take control of the steering wheel. Do you remember the first time you were behind a steering wheel? I do. It is a great deal for a small girl to be trusted with a vehicle, even if we were not even close to reach speed limit.  We went past trees and cows, streams and creeks. Those were the good old days. Whenever we saw cows or horses, actually, whenever we saw any animal, I sneaked through the small rear window and my grandpa stopped the truck so I could say hi. It was not of utter importance whether it was winter or spring, summer or fall. The landscape could be always changing but the yellow truck was our constant. Whenever we were there together, we were in our safe place. We would talk, play and sing. When the crops were ready, my grandpa would drive around his land and I would pick up bananas, oranges and avocados. From time to time I would pick up flowers and make my own small secret garden. Sometimes we flew kites or had lunch in the truck’s bed. When I stayed the night at “El Ranchito” with my grandparents, we used to lie down over the truck’s bed and watched the stars. I know for sure the truck was not my grandpa’s most valued possession, but I am sure we had many adventures and made countless memories. I could listen to my grandpa talk on and on and he would never cease to amaze me. That is something that did not changed throughout the years, and I am happy to know that now. That peculiar Yellow Pick-up is not here now, but when I see one that looks like the one my grandpa had, I cannot help but remember him and smile.