I ugly cried. In the street. In front of strangers. Like a wuss.
I couldn’t help it. I’m pretty darn good at keeping my crying private. I honestly can’t remember the last time I cried in public. And to be perfectly honest, even in private I can usually keep the tears at bay with a good amount of Häagen-Dazs. Or a freshly baked cupcake. Or a jumbo sized Hershey Bar. I think you see where this is going…
In any case, I actually broke down in public the day before yesterday. Not a sobbing snotty cry but a “Why is this grown woman crying in the street?” cry. If you remember this post, we bought a new car in February for our growing family. As a result, I had to say goodbye to my amazing first and only car. I adored her and the transition to my new (and wonderful) car wasn’t as hard at first because I still owned my old car.
On Tuesday, however, I had to officially say goodbye. I know, I know. It’s just a car. Material things aren’t what matter. There are so many other more important things to be crying about than some old car. Blah, blah, blah. I know all of that and completely and 100% agree. The truth is, though, that car was more than a just a car to me. It was a huge collection of memories. And in that moment, as I watched my old car drive away, I felt such a palpable loss.
That car was a sign of trust from my parents and an expression of their pride. It carried me to and from law school for 3 years. It drove me to my first real job and it drove me far away when I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It drove me to my rehearsal dinner and it drove my daughter to her first pediatrician’s appointment. I’ve been heartbroken, overjoyed and everything in between in that car.
Don’t worry. I didn’t cry too long out there in the street. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.