The '68
Mustang
Dinner was winding down, the clatter of plates replaced by the quiet hum of
evening conversation. That was when Dad brought up the '68 Mustang again. We
had all heard the stories of how fast it was, but tonight, he revealed a
piece of the puzzle we had never known.
He hadn't just bought it to show off. He had purchased it a mere week before
he met Mom at that little diner on 4th street. It wasn't just a car; it was the prelude to
their entire life together.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he described the distinct, sharp smell of the
leather seats. "We were just kids," he whispered into the quiet room.
In that moment, he wasn't the father we had known all our lives; he was a
young man again, heart pounding in his chest, driving toward a future he
couldn't yet imagine, but one that would eventually become us.
Compiled specially
by
Athwan