Blue Bug and the Art of Letting Go
Today, I’m selling my old car. It was the last car with my late husband’s name on it. We called it Blue Bug. I’m crying, of course—because Blue Bug was my home when we were homeless, a home that carried us through a major trauma in our life’s journey. I’m crying because, despite everything I did to save it, some things just can’t be fixed. Life feels sad sometimes. I think it’s the letting go. It’s also the remembering—being held in our beloved’s embrace and not realizing then that it’s just a body made up of arms and legs and one big, enlarged heart. It’s letting go after all our efforts fail, when we are forced to look within, and beyond, not without. That’s why life is a journey. Each letting go carries us to