She knew the package came from her and she knew what was inside.
She sat with furniture and suitcases tightly packed around her. The only space being her own little corner where she could easily shift in to gear and steer the wheel to her new home.
Admittedly, she wanted to tear open the package. Pour out its contents on to her lap. Read the letter she knew was waiting for her inside. Discover the unpredictable treasures of what she knew would be articles of clothing or trinkets found at some time of day, in some random place…All manifestations of thoughts and love that her friend still had for her. Gifts speak truth to the love harbored by the brokenhearted for the brokenhearted. The friend loved her unconditionally and she had chosen to let her go.
The way the manila envelope felt in her hands sent her heart in to her throat and the heaviness of nausea and stillness consumed her for a brief moment. Her blood felt cold and her heart seemed to be the only part of her still moving forward through time. She listened to it thud loudly against her chest and in an instant the package laid unopened on the floor. Without thought, her limbs did what they needed to bring the car to life.
She was behind the wheel driving the car, but someone else was breathing strength in to her limp body. She had become increasingly familiar with this fresh breathe of air over the past few weeks, each new breathe had grown larger than the one before. Once again, He came to her rescue. Right there in that moment. There He was.
He now steers my wheel.
And with that thought she pushed down on the gas. His peace warmed her blood, the nausea dissipated, and the car moved forward with a smile…