The Things That Matter Most

I wrecked the family car, an old gold minivan

that had traveled every inch of I-95. It had worn cushions

and an old school map in the glove box.

It held a folder full of mix CDs under the passenger seat

and every memory of every family trip,

and I wrecked it.

I called the tow truck while the engine

hissed and smoked. I called my dad,

my own apologies tripping over themselves

to get to the front of the line.

I expected to be grounded.

I expected a “How could you?”

But when I got home that night,

my dad held me close and said,

“A car is just a car, but you are my child.

The only thing that matters is that you are okay.”

And I knew it for what it was.

It was mercy. It was love.

It was the thing that mattered most.

Poem by Rev. Sarah A. Speed | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org

Artwork by Hannah Garrity, "There is Good" | A Sanctified Art LLC | sanctifiedart.org