by Lacy Lynch

Subject: The Mustang Diaries

Rett never let anyone know he was sick. He was too busy loving life and living every moment to be burdened down by illness. He was too beautiful to be manipulated by some ugly disease. With most people, you don't realize how special they are until they are gone. Not so with rett, I knew he was special all throughout our friendship. He opened my eyes to the beauty of the world around me- through art, movies, and music. He was generous to a fault- buying me cds and giving me cool car parts for my mustang. In fact- that's one of the reasons I got my mustang convertable- because I saw how much Rett loved his. And he was so excited when I got one too. Of course mine wasn't nearly as cool as his, but we had many good times in it all the same. I have a lot of fond members in Rett's mustang. To us, it represented freedom and escape. When we were in that blue mustang with the top down- speading down the highway or careening through the streets of HP- we were safe from everything. Safe from cancer. Safe from highschool angst. Same from the harshness of reality.

We were free.

I went through some really low points in highshool, and rett held my hand through a lot of them. No matter what time of day or night, I could call Rett when I was down and he would be in the front of my house with the top down before I even hung up the phone. Ready to make me laugh. Ready to talk. Ready to sing at the top of our lungs to Fiona Apple, Radio Head, Moby, Polyphonic Spree, or whatever else we were into at the time.

Many of my fondest memories  with Rett are buried in the gravel at the playground where convened at the merry-go-round in the wee hours of the morning blasting Oasis and sharing our philosophies and talking things out. Or they are at the traintracks- where Brian, Jessica, Rett and I exchanged philosophies and giggled until 4:00 in the morning. 

I don't know why we always hung out after-hours. I think it's because that was "our time." We felt like we owned it. We were totally free from responsibility and reality during that time. We owned it. We felt grown up.

Now that I actually am grown up. I miss those times more than ever. I miss not being grown-up. I miss being the freedom of being a kid. I miss Rett.

I miss Rett and I's conversations- the intellectual exchanges and the banter. In those times, when I am longing for some witty repartee, I know all I have to do is go to Cafe Brazil and he will be only a cup of coffee away.  

Lacy Lalene Lynch

Dupree/Miller & Associates


Copyright © 2010
Charles Nearburg
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