“Girls! Get in the car!”
“Where are we going?”
“The gas station.”
“I LOVE the gas station!!” Says Fiona, who is five.
But the weird thing is, they all do. They love getting in the car with mommy, because the gas station means a little treat for all of us – a chocolate bar – or candy, or some terrifying corn syrup-y, crappy lick thing that they like. And then we drive.
We don’t go anywhere special. We just drive around. Tonight we went out to Sunset Point and almost caught the sunset, but didn’t. When we turned around, we saw the most magnificent full moon high in the sky.
And we pointed, and oohed and ahhed. Then we laughed at the car in front of us with their windows down pointing at the moonscape and how all parents make you look at stuff that you don’t really appreciate until your old and fearful that you may never see one again.
As we drove home we chatted about the day, about boys, and we did some car karaoke – all of it enhanced by the sugar high of gas station garbage.
So, on our way to somewhere, and often on our way to nowhere, the car becomes our little biome. Our secret hideaway that quiets the outside noise and gives us some time together.
What about you? Is the car your haven, or your hell?