Sweet Ride

Last time I got in my car I noticed the melted crayon on the console and the wrappers on the floor. I saw the rip in the back of the seat and the crumbs permanently ground into the carpet. The van that I fervently fought getting 8 years ago. The one I was sure I wasn't old enough to own. The one that blended into the family as easily a much wanted new puppy.

When I drove that car off the lot I promised myself I would hold it at arms length and not let it become a part of us. The van had other ideas. It became a second house. It came with us to preschool and play dates. It weathered vacations and vomit. It affectionately became the red mommy bus and the M van. It provided diversions of movies and music. It kept the kids far enough apart that spats were short lived yet close enough to be able to play games and read together.

The minute it was paid off I started to imagine myself driving something much hipper. I saw myself in something new and shiny without the sliding doors and wiggles music. I would think of myself driving my new wheels with the breeze in my hair and a smile on my face. The last time I caught a glimpse of the war torn insides I realized a few things. The grass is always greener. That van encompasses my girls' childhood that is quickly slipping away. It is a scrapbook on wheels. As much as I want to pretend I am done with my minivan days I think I might hold on to it for a year ...or maybe two.