I was in my mid twenties and had the cutest little one bedroom cottage apartment;  far enough from my family home so I could finally be independent, but close enough for laundry and impromptu dinners.

That December was my first Christmas on my own, and I proudly set up a sweet little 5' tree decorated in my living room. Two nights before Christmas, I popped into the local Albertson's to get a few things, probably more eggnog and Kraft macaroni and cheese (that's a story for another time). As I exited the store with my grocery bags, there off in the corner by the carts were the few remaining Noble Fir trees that nobody deemed pretty enough to take home and decorate.

I began to cry over the unloved trees.

One portly tree in particular was on its side. It had given up any hope, knowing that the bottom of the dumpster was going to be its soon and inevitable fate. I picked up the chubby tree (which was an amusing 3' wide and 2' tall) and with the biggest smile on my face, I paid for a tree that I did not need, nor was I sure where it would fit in my house. It didn't matter. The tree and I were beaming with joy!

Now, some 22 years later as luck would have it, I married a man that also has a soft spot for inanimate objects and even takes it a whole step further by giving them a voice.

One recent example this month was when he had to park our Land Cruiser at the car rental lot for 5 whole days. When Mike pulled up the driveway with "Ponce" I asked "How'd he do there in the lot?" Mike replied, "Oh he was so happy when he saw me! He was wagging his little tail and said 'You came back for me!!'."

I teared up.

So last week, Mike and I drove into a car lot in Fairfield and said hello to a new-to-me car and said goodbye to my very beloved BMW. As much as I could have driven that car until the end of time, the 165,000 miles made me think it was ready to say goodbye.

After the car was completely emptied, including my favorite chapstick and glove box Bible, I sat in the drivers seat to say good bye. I was trying real hard to keep it together. Mike stood near the door and started in as if he were the car, "Hey guys, wait, where are you going?!" and I quickly smiled at him with tears in my eyes and said, "Oh please don't." He could see instantly.

So Mike gave me an even greater gift of compassion as we drove out the lot, past my now vacant car. In an old and tired voice, as if he were my car again he said, "Megan I've held on as long as possible and we've had the best time together. I'm old and tired and just want to roll into a field and visit with my German friends."

That made me smile.

Do you give objects feelings and voices or are we just crazy?

p.s. I may have cried as I typed this story.