Yesterday we sold our car.
And as silly as it sounds, I actually felt very emotional about it.
As I drove our new (well, at least new to us) minivan, with
all three kids in tow, I followed behind
Jarrett who was driving our Rendezvous for the last time.
Staring at the back of the car and through the rear
windshield, it was almost as if I was looking into a time tunnel into the
past. Memories flooded my mind and
although we had only gone 12 miles, in that short amount of time, emotionally I
relived all significant events from the past 7 years of our life.
That was the first vehicle Jarrett and I purchased together after getting married. It was the vehicle, loaded to the brim, that my mom and I took as she helped us move from Iowa to Arizona. It was the car Jarrett and I sobbed in as we drove home together in after learning he had cancer, the vehicle that made the weekly trips to Mayo Clinic including that special trip when we learned he had beaten the disease. It was the car we drove to fertility clinics, adoption classes, and, it was the car that took us to that special day when we met our two wonderful boys. I’ll never forget how it felt to buckle them into their car seats, climb into the passenger seat and look back to see two smiling faces. It was the picture I dreamed about and finally got to live. It was the vehicle that took us on family vacations, camping adventures, trips to the store, and to first days of school. It was also the vehicle that took us to the hospital to meet and bring home our miracle baby girl. So many important life events, all centered around one thing. Unlike a home that says in one place, our car traveled with us through all the changes, the challenges and the cheers that our life has included in these past seven years.
That was the first vehicle Jarrett and I purchased together after getting married. It was the vehicle, loaded to the brim, that my mom and I took as she helped us move from Iowa to Arizona. It was the car Jarrett and I sobbed in as we drove home together in after learning he had cancer, the vehicle that made the weekly trips to Mayo Clinic including that special trip when we learned he had beaten the disease. It was the car we drove to fertility clinics, adoption classes, and, it was the car that took us to that special day when we met our two wonderful boys. I’ll never forget how it felt to buckle them into their car seats, climb into the passenger seat and look back to see two smiling faces. It was the picture I dreamed about and finally got to live. It was the vehicle that took us on family vacations, camping adventures, trips to the store, and to first days of school. It was also the vehicle that took us to the hospital to meet and bring home our miracle baby girl. So many important life events, all centered around one thing. Unlike a home that says in one place, our car traveled with us through all the changes, the challenges and the cheers that our life has included in these past seven years.
In a matter of a few miles, a five minutes in an office and
a signature, we said good bye. We knew the days for the car were numbered, it
needed repairs that cost more than it was worth. We discussed what to do with it over and over. For anyone who knows us, despite what it may seem
when it comes to having children, we are really slow decision makers when it
comes to most everything else. In the
end, we decided it was time to let it go.
As we left the house with it for the last time, I thought about taking a
picture, you know, for old times’ sake.
But in the hustle of getting everyone ready and already being late, I
told myself I didn’t need to. What would
we do with it anyway? And although I
didn’t take an actual picture, I can assure you the picture of that vehicle, or
at least the back of the vehicle, I took over and over in my mind as we drove
to the car lot.
Just like a book that starts, has a middle and an end, I
feel we had the same thing with our vehicle.
Although it makes me sad to say good bye to that car, I realize it isn’t
so much the metal, steel and parts that I’ll miss, it’s that everything our life
has encompassed was encircled in that steel frame with 4 wheels. Cleaning it out, we found pieces of our life….
The prayer card from my grandmother’s funeral, programs from the last Iowa Hawkeye
football game we attended before moving here, parking passes from when I first
started working at the University, the
magazine of the 2007 Phoenix’s Top Doctors (when we looked for the best
oncologist in the valley), 41 cent
stamps, directions to the best campgrounds in Arizona, and many things from the
kids, Spiderman sunglasses we’ve been looking for for over a year, melted colors,
kids travel cards, super hero action figurines, and school projects that didn’t
make it into the house.
The drive to the dealership seemed actually pretty quiet to me. That was until I realized, I had tuned out the all of noise from the three little ones behind me. It wasn’t until I heard Gabriel say, “MOM!!!, aren’t you listening to me?” that I snapped out of the moments of deep thought I was having. “Yes,” I said to Gabriel, “I’m sorry what did you say?” He responded, “Mom” pause, “I said I love you.” And with that I realized, although I’m sad about saying good bye to the vehicle that has brought us so many wonderful memories of the past seven years to cherish; I’m currently driving the van that will bring us so many more memories to look forward to in the future.
Until next time,
Angie
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