Lately, I find great pleasure in quiet car moments. Quiet, as in the car is parked and kidless. We've made it home, everyone spills out, and I am catatonic, unable to move.
I imagine all the noise that just shifted from the car to our house - dragging and dropping things, racing to the kitchen, everyone talking at the same time. Quickly, the noise feels far, far away. It's so peaceful behind the wheel, even behind the broken windshield.
I don't worship my car like I used to as a late teen or 20-something, before "dependents" and evern before much climate change awareness. I am not relishing in some song, or in the freedom of the road. But this silent, grey, aged mini-van cradles me in a freedom just as vital: the freedom to catch my breath.
You are a wonder, Alice. You deserve a quiet moment here and there:).
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