This lucky duck got herself a pretty new car yesterday. I was so ridiculously excited to hop in it and soak in all it’s newness and fancy bits. I was also stupidly nervous driving it home, panicking every time another car came too close.
As I swapped the car seats from my trusty old ride into the lovely new one, a wave of memories washed over me. I thought it a little silly (not at all unlike me, but still silly), until I watched my eldest literally hug the back of the car, sobbing. It seems he’s a little sentimental like his mama.
I used to run around in a teeny little blue/purple Mirage pre-kids. When I found out my first bundle was on his way, it made sense to upgrade to a vehicle that fit more than myself and a bucket load of rubbish and shoes in it. I found a second hand wagon, big enough to fit the fam in but still a little cool at the same time.
That car, while just a car, contains a million memories each absorbed in every stitch and fibre and dust filled compartment. The days I gently slid brand new babies into their seats and drove home and 3km an hour. The endless rounds of nursery rhymes and Wiggles and Wheels on the Bus, whatever would work until my babes would stop screaming and finally drift off to sleep. The road trip to Sydney. Taking sick kids to doctors, nervous kids to first days of school and kindy, excited kids to swimming lessons, tired kids home to bed, happy kids on adventures. It’s filled with sand, Matchbox cars, the odd biscuit, some crayons and pencils, and stinky boy shoes. That car has heard endless bad singing, random conversations, infectious giggles, sweet stories and god-awful smelling sound effects. It has taken my massive pregnant self to hospital to meet the boys, it’s done a bajillion grocery trips, doctors visits and drive through runs.
That car has heard me cry a million tears each time I needed to escape the problems of my marriage and eventually, when it ended. It’s heard me plead for answers to questions I had no answers to. It’s heard horrible arguments and fighting and accusations and broken promises. It’s heard me whisper plans and dreams and hopes for my babies and I.
That car has seen new beginnings. It’s seen each of us conquer things, be brave, be stupid, be silly and just love. The mixture of memories and emotions held within that metal box on wheels is massive.
It’s just a car. But I’ll still miss what it held inside its little walls.