we had a big black suburban and they would put down the middle seats in the back. once we were on the freeway they would let us sit on the flat part and play, or lay down and sleep on pillows and cushions. anything to shut us up for a while, to keep them sane for a while.

and i had this stuffed animal. a little brown pig. and i loved it more than anything. more than i have loved any other object, even till this day. he was my best friend and he went everywhere with me. he was falling apart seam by seam from all my love. he was quiet a mess, really. but i guess a child's love can do that to you.

anyways, i remember i would be sitting there near the window, kneeling, watching california pass through. and the thought of sticking my little brown pig out the window came to me. and it horrified me and enthralled me. to put the object that meant the most to me at risk. just to see what would happen.

so i would roll the window down, and stick him out the window holding on to him as tightly as i could with my little hands, just seeing if he would get away. then i'd pull him back into the car as fast as i could, and hug him and mutter a tiny prayer of thanks under my breath as i felt this big feeling of relief that he was still with me. and promise myself never to do it again.

but. i always did it again. and again.

and i can't think that i haven't changed at all. maybe the curiosity never got full satiated. maybe i remeber that enthralling/terrified feeling. i still risk the things the most important to me, over and over. till they can't hang on anymore or until my grubby little hands cant hold them anymore.

they will all be lost in the wind. or on the side of the free way if i don't stop. soon. maybe the fact i never lost that pig, i makes me feel like i can't lose anything else either.

even though i know thats not true. because i have. and unlike him, other things will try and free themselves. loosen their grip from me. like college. like san francisco. like the life i love and miss.

he may have been the first, but he's far from the last to be put out a window by me.

maybe i was just addicted to the feeling of relief, when i realized he was still there in my hands, windblown.