So Hard, Just for Me

Today I am doing something that is excruciatingly hard - donating my car. It's not just my car. Not just my first new car (25 years ago). My first new car that my Dad helped me test drive and buy.

It's my car that's Been There through a slew of awful life upheavals: breakups, moves I did not want to make, times when the only person I could bear to be around was myself ... and my car. Back when gas was still under $2 a gallon, we'd take off on weekends to hike or be alone on central coast beaches. This car has over 240,000 miles on it. Some parts have been replaced, but it's still basically itself. I've had good times with it too -- road trips with friends to Santa Cruz and Los Angeles.

The hardest thing for me to release is my last big physical link to my life before everything changed in 1991. I'm talking about the Oakland Hills Fire. Where I lost the home, neighbourhood, and things  I grew up in / with in a day, seared by temperatures well over 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit and blasted in a firestorm that created its own gale-force winds. My family and I ran for our lives twice that day, helped by friends and some family members whom I will remember forever with gratitude.

When I crept back behind police lines the next day, everything was leveled, smoking, and covered with a fine grey ash. The fire was still not out. But there it was, my car -- with the only change of clothes I had in the world in a bag in the trunk. One tire burned and the power lines above had melted and dripped onto it, but it was there, and it the engine turned over when I got in and twisted the key.

In the weeks that followed, I found out who my true friends were, and that process hurt. I lost several close friends and family members in a steady procession in the following 4 years. I found out what bastards our home insurance company was run by, and it sickened me. My auto insurance wanted to total the car, but relented when I said I wanted to keep it. I had it checked thoroughly after, and nothing needed replacing except the burned-out tire. It stood by me and I tried to do the same.

Over the past 2 years, however, it started needing repairs that I could no longer afford. My husband and I decided, after James' diagnosis in 2007, that it would be best to have a parent be stay at-home, and our income halved in consequence shortly after. I've been fighting to keep it with me, though. I know in my head that this has been long overdue; that sometimes I have to let things go to let new things on. I know that holding on to this car is all for me, and it's not helping our family at this point. Someone else can benefit from this car. It still hurts me today though, in a burning way.

I have had the support of friends to help me make the best decision -- it's being donated to the Make A Wish foundation for children. It will go to auction and I hold hope that someone somewhere will buy it and make it go again. It should not take too much - just more than I can give right now. So good-bye, my Mazda. Go and make a wish for someone's child come true, and keep on making a difference in someone's life. I will never forget you.

SNwRG: Trouble, Please Be Kind

I'm late, but Sunday picked a humdinger this week -- it neatly summed up my Thursday and Friday evenings. I still have that sadness hangover. However, girlfriends and Ryan are helping me out.

And a late entry:

How about you? Want to enjoy a creative way to vent some stress and smile? Head on over to  Adventures in Extreme Parenthood's site, grab the photo of the week, create, and share:

Feeling Blueish

No special reason, just lots of little or regular things that have been piling up. Now they've got me down. Probably does not help that both kids and husband have been home sick off & on all week. Even cleaning up the dishes feels like a marathon event.

So glad that respite care is here for me this afternoon. So glad that the kids are not dangerously sick and are mostly cheerful. I know I'll have to buckle down and get them somewhat up to speed with all the school they've been missing, but right now I am hiding out, having a coffee, and mentally going "lalalalalalalala" with invisible fingers in my ears.

You know how all those articles and stories tell us to get out and exercise to fire up those endorphins and help us feel better mentally, as well as physically? I am about to try that one out. I'll let you know how it works.

SOOC Saturday: Signs of Spring

When we first moved into this house six years ago, my mother gave me a lot of daffodil bulbs to plant in our new garden. My daughter, who was learning to walk, helped me to plant them. Every Spring they come back as another miracle. Despite the nearby and invasive cacti, potatoes, and now lavender.

The vase is an engagement present. There are rosemary sprigs in there as well. Rosemary is for remembrance.

I need a little inspiration and remembrance of the good things right now. Our family is going through a prickly, hurtful, dry, hard time. We need our little miracles to keep us going to another day.

The Slurping Life is stormbound. Visit Melody and check out SOOC Saturday/Sunday entries past & present!



  

A New Experience

James woke up crying around 10 one night this week. Sobbing. He never does this. Once he's down for the night, he sleeps until morning (unless he is sick).

His dad and I came in, to find him sobbing "It's okay, Wubzy ... it's ooookay!" After rubbing his back and letting him hold on to us, we asked him if he was okay. He said there was a monster in the closet.

Woah!


Our daughter had a good year of monsters and bad dreams waking us up throughout the night. This was the first time James had this experience.

My first thought was "Wow, that is such a cool sentence! Awesome" and the next: "My poor baby!" So I held and rocked him while his dad explained there are no monsters. Then we closed his closet door and he relaxed and went back to sleep.

Since the disaster of frenetic activity from mid-December-mid-January and recovering from the latest bad-ass cold, James has emerged as almost a different child. More talkative. More snuggly. More relaxed and confident. It's wonderful to see.

P.S.: Let me add that both our kids have watched and loved Wubzy for many years. Wubzy = Good Guy.

James and Jimmy

We got some sad news today. James' godfather and great-uncle passed away suddenly this morning.

This is the way I'll remember him -- laughing at a wonderful picnic at the beach two summers ago.



We gave our James extra hugs today. Happy we have him. Because we could not hug the man he was named for. Makes me think of the DMB song "Celebrate we will, for life is short but sweet for certain."