I didn’t expect to cry. I mean, who cries over trading in a car? It’s metal, wires, old receipts, and probably some old popcorn that magically lives under the seats. Nothing sentimental…or so I thought.
But on my last drive, as I took one final lap in the car that had carried my life for six years, something tugged at me. Then it pulled. Then it yanked so hard that tears started rolling before I even understood why.
Spoiler: it wasn’t the car. It was everything that happened inside and outside of it.
Six years ago, my youngest was starting high school, my son was a sophomore in high school, and my oldest was heading off to college. I was juggling three kids, three schedules, and approximately three million daily tasks. Life was noisy...messy and noisy. The kind of chaos you swore you’d never miss… until you do.
Now, my oldest is out of college, my son is about to graduate college, and my youngest is a junior in college. And suddenly I’m sitting in a car crying into the steering wheel like I just sold a precious family heirloom.
Where did the time go? Seriously! Who has been fast-forwarding my life remote?
Grief has this sneaky way of tiptoeing in dressed as something else. You think you’re saying goodbye to a car, but really you’re saying goodbye to school drop-offs, pep-talk drives, sibling arguments in the back seat, the freshly groomed dog, and the soundtrack of kids.
As a mom of three, there are days I’d give anything to click my heels and land right back in the beautiful chaos...the forgotten cleats, the carpool karaoke, the “Do you have any snacks...I'm starving?” The unpredictability that made life feel full and alive and in a tornado at the same time!
Parenting is complicated even after your kids are grown-ish. It doesn’t get calmer...rather, it just shifts into a new kind of hectic. And, in the middle of all the doing, planning, organizing, and worrying...lots and lots of worrying…it’s easy to forget to simply BE. Be here...right here...right now.
That’s what hit me in that car: sadness and awareness. A nudge from life saying, “Hey, slow down...you’re going to want to remember this part, too.”
So here, in my new car that still smells like “fresh start,” I’m choosing to be more present. Not perfect. Just here. For the moments that still come...big and tiny, loud and quiet, silly and sacred.
Because I don’t want the next six years to race and blur past me the way the last six did.
And who knows...maybe this car will collect its own stash of memories, crumbs, laughter, late-night talks, and unexpected tears.
But at least now, I’ll know: It was never about the car. It was always about the life lived inside and outside of it.
And if you’re longing for more presence, balance, or clarity in your own life, reach out. As a mental health therapist and parenting coach, I’m here to meet you exactly where you are...so the next six years don’t race by you!