Maybe it's because I'm having my period. Maybe it's because the week has been stressful. Maybe it's because my little Melina took the big step of starting kindergarten today. Maybe it's a conglomeration of all of those things that caused it to happen: I sat inside my minivan today, and upon hearing the news that I would, indeed, need to send it to the salvage yard, warm tears began to run down my cheeks.
It's a car, for goodness sakes. It's a car. But this car has served us well. It's the car we purchased because three kids in car seats couldn't sit safely in Tim's vehicle. And when Melina came along, we filled one more seat with her sweet angel face. I've driven the cats back and forth to the vet in it; Shadow has visited Michigan and Pennsylvania in this car; we've taken it countless places like Chicago, Walloon Lake, Washington D.C. and Florida. Despite the stickers on the back window and the endless piles of crumbs, the minivan is my friend. It's listened to me rant and rave and console and yell. In fact, I have spent more time in that car than I have on my family room couch.
And now, it's leaving. I don't know when yet, although it needs to be soon so that our case can be closed. The salvage yard will call and set up a time to come get my friend; they'll need to tow it because the axle needs repair. I think I'll choose not to be there that day, or else I might need a little repair, too.
It's a car, for goodness sakes. It's a car. But this car has served us well. It's the car we purchased because three kids in car seats couldn't sit safely in Tim's vehicle. And when Melina came along, we filled one more seat with her sweet angel face. I've driven the cats back and forth to the vet in it; Shadow has visited Michigan and Pennsylvania in this car; we've taken it countless places like Chicago, Walloon Lake, Washington D.C. and Florida. Despite the stickers on the back window and the endless piles of crumbs, the minivan is my friend. It's listened to me rant and rave and console and yell. In fact, I have spent more time in that car than I have on my family room couch.
And now, it's leaving. I don't know when yet, although it needs to be soon so that our case can be closed. The salvage yard will call and set up a time to come get my friend; they'll need to tow it because the axle needs repair. I think I'll choose not to be there that day, or else I might need a little repair, too.
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