Mister Ambassador was rightfully mine and I always dreamt of
driving it someday.
There was always a contract in my head that was signed to me from my Dad that I’ve gotten authority over it.
My beloved car hardly moved and I had ridden on it only once as long as I could remember. There were 4 doors and one of them worked.
I drove that stationary car for almost a year; changed its gears as I travelled the hills of my imaginary mountains; steered its wheel across the many turning of my visions and I must have had a couple of accidents in my beloved car if I were driving it on an actual road and not my wild imaginations.
But no one ever knew…how beautiful the couches were, how the ceilings sparkled in dark with flash.. how my brother and I rested on it with spiders accompanying our leisure time.
We had red Christmas lights on it once.. because we learnt how the wiring worked that December. We washed its white surface couple of times just to have smiles on our faces to see the brown coloured clean skin.
This picture was taken on a night where my brother and I tried to imitate the great painting of fingers we saw on pictures; we spent hours talking about how beautiful the ceilings of grandpa Ambassador was.. so finely wrapped in intricate designs of great fibers and how beautiful the car was inside, regardless of how rusty old Grandpa looked outside with green moss mustaches.
On 7th of August, Dad called me up out of respect to inform me that they’re letting him go and that he was someone else’s now.
I always thought I’d drive him one day.. but my parents were right.. he stood there for quite a long time and he must be tired now.
But Grandpa Ambassador, you had always being a pride to me and so much a part of my day dream journeys.. You hold a special place in my core memories…but now that one has grown..I guess every Imaginary Friend has to go …
Neingusanuo Kire