Friday, January 22, 2010
Ode to my Sentra
Well, it's official. Last night we finally sold my Nissan Sentra. This morning my husband drove it to work and handed it over to the woman who purchased it. I have to admit, I was a little teary last night standing in the driveway saying goodbye. I know selling it was for the best, and I know we'll be saving a lot more money this way, and I know that it went to a very respectable new owner. But still, the Sentra represented more than just a vehicle. I bought it in 2002 when I was 19, single and working a steady job. I still remember the feeling when I took it for it's first spin at the dealer. The car drove so smooth, accelerated so fast, I loved it. That car was a piece of me from back before I was married or had children. It represented a time when I worked and brought in my own income, and I purchased that Sentra with my own money. As a wife/mom today I have the greatest job in the world and I certainly wouldn't change that for anything. My job does have it's stresses, especially right now when the children need me constantly. There are times when I feel like the real me, Amy, the me outside of MOM, is getting lost. My Sentra provided an escape. Just to take it for a spin, or run an errand, I would get behind the wheel and it just made me feel like ME again. It's the car I drove when I got engaged and then married. It's the car that took us to Michigan when I was pregnant with Emily, through a blizzard and ice storm. AND the car that took a beating from the relatives for not being American made and that backed all the way down Uncle Jeff's driveway through more than a foot of snow to his amazement (one of my favorite memories!). In fact this car took us to Michigan quite a few times. It's the car that took me to the hospital to deliver our first child. It's the car that took us home from the hospital, a brand new family. I know it might be silly to be so attached to a material thing and to be perfectly honest, I know I'll be over it tomorrow, but that car did mean something to me. It represented more than just a piece of metal. It was a part of me. And I'm thankful. I'm thankful for the knowledge that I've gained from this experience that I never would have understood otherwise. My grandmother passed away a few years ago and she suffered from Alzheimer's. When we used to visit they always had her old Toyota parked in the lot, which who knows how old it was, and I never understood why they kept it because she hadn't been able to drive for years. And she was really particular about it and I remember her being so mad when it was gone. And I understand it now. I get it. It was a piece of her, it represented a time when she brought in an income, it represented who she was before she aged, before she fell and broke her hip, before the disease took over her mind. And I believe she knew in her mind that she really would never drive it again. But as long as that car was there, as long as she could still see that piece of her, I think it helped keep that piece of her alive as well. Funny how a car can be packed with so many memories and so much meaning. So goodbye Sentra, you'll be missed. The young-single-sports car-driving chapter of my life is closed, but the young at spirit-child raising-hubby loving-mini-van-driving chapter of my life is just beginning. What a beautiful journey life is.