R.I.P.

Today my car went home to meet its maker. Not God, the Mercedes Benz dealer.

OK, let me be transparent. I cried. Seriously!! There was 10 minutes in Rich's car that I actually could not talk. He kept looking over at me, asking me simple questions I could answer with a grunt (no) and a head nod (yes). Every other minute he would reach out and stroke my hand. It was both ridiculous and sweet.

It's gone and I actually feel quite empty. As I was throwing away my recyclables tonight (which I keep in the garage) I was struck by how empty it is. What will I do with all that space?

Rich came home with a shiny brochure for a new Mercedes. "Look honey," he says hopefully "you can get this car." My feelings, my crying, my depression tonight only reiterates the fact that I need to live for awhile without one. I am not happy, but I am hopeful.

I am happy, at least, with thoughts that somebody, someday soon, will get to own my car. They will feel that euphoric "new car" feeling. They will be proud as they come out of the grocery store, hit the unlock button and hear the angels sing the sound of their car being unlocked. They will proudly hand wash it for the first several months (before giving into the corner car wash, where they do it faster, cheaper and better than they ever can). They will love it, and I will be glad for them, because they deserve to own this magnificent car.