Today started out like most other Monday mornings. Alarm at 5:30 am, mad dash to get Momma showered and dressed, get your brother fed and bathed, hit the road for grandma and grandpa's house, a quick hand-off and kisses bye-bye, then race to the office for an 8:00 am meeting. Whew.
But after work, things took an unexpected turn. Momma and Dadda met for dinner, with your tired little brother in tow, then we visited the car dealership. And, a little after 9:00 pm we left with a new car. New car?! That was the last thing Momma thought we would do today.
This is exactly what happened the day we bought The Peanutmobile. It was a strangely warm, foggy night in January 2010. You were 4 months old, and Momma had a nasty sinus infection. Dadda and I had admired this car for a few months, talked about buying it, then BAM! Dadda went out and struck a deal. Despite Momma's sinus issues and crankiness, we signed all the paperwork and drove home surrounded by new car smell and dreams of taking such good care of this car we might eventually pass it along to you.
That car became YOUR car. Sporty, shiny black, dark tinted windows, creamy tan leather interior. We laughed about you rolling up to daycare in your slick ride, "Hey ladies! Here comes Peanut in The Peanutmobile!" I can still see the dents in the backseat leather where your pumpkin seat was installed that first year. When I glance in the rearview mirror, I still view your giant, toothy smile, right next to your little brother's reflection.
I'll never forget the first time I drove your car after you passed away. Your car seat was gone. Your reflection, nowhere to be found. Where is Peanut? asked the rearview mirror. The interior was too quiet, aching for your laughter and babbling.
That car knew you. It still knows you.
And now...Momma has a new car. A car more suited to yucky St. Louis winter weather, with ice and slick snow. A bigger, heavier car made to protect Momma and The Pickle - especially during Momma's killer commute. But, still...this is yet one more door closing. Sort of. More like it's left ajar. The Peanutmobile will now be Dadda's car. It's not leaving the family, and Momma can still drive it, and visit that reflection in the mirror.
While we completed the paperwork this evening, the finance manager looked at The Pickle and asked, "Is this your only one?" Oh Peanut, I didn't have the heart. We will never see this woman again, and, quite frankly I didn't WANT to share you with her. I hope that decision didn't hurt your feelings. The decision to share is so situational...this time it just didn't feel "right."
I hope and pray you understand all these changes. That you watch these events and smile, encouraging us to continue to move forward. More than anything, I desperately hope you know how much I love you. How much? Oh Peanut, to the moon - and back!
|Peanut, livin' large on his Tonka Truck.|