the black cuk

the other day we all went to the commissary & when we were leaving we saw it - the black cuk. When Z first learned to speak he couldn't say truck, he said cuk. there it was, just pulled into the parking lot, B's old black truck. B said as soon as we walked outside he heard it & recognized it. we all just stared at it, that's our cuk.

the man who owns the truck is older, walks with a cane, has disabled plates. he probably thought something was wrong with us as the whole family just looked longingly at his truck.

it's like the truck reminded us of our former selves, a link to our past, when things were different, priorities were different, our lives were different.