the death of a minivan

A little piece of me died the day I bought a minivan. I’m not even joking y’all. I left the dealership and went straight to my shrink. I am NOT kidding.

I’ll never forget it…the tires squealed as I pulled into the parking garage. I bolted toward the door and collapsed on her couch. The words couldn’t come out fast enough. I was out of breath.

“I JUST BOUGHT A MINIVAN."

SILENCE.

Bless her heart. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.  

Neither did I.

An hour later we came to a conclusion…this minivan was a stage in my life. This, too, shall pass.

“But Kathryn…I’m a SINGLE MOM driving a MINIVAN.”

"Holiday…it will be OKAY.”

Let’s be clear. I was NOT held at gunpoint by the car dealer (although that would have made this story waaaayyy more interesting).

Truth be told…I had been looking for a swagger wagon for a while when I finally found one that fit the bill (and when I say bill I mean loaded with leather seats, DVD players, sunroof, and enough room to fit a small African village…)

I really, really TRIED to love this car. But when your dad responds to your new car picture text with “Wow, Hol…did hell freeze over today?” you know you’ve got a problem (especially when your dad is the closest thing to Jesus you know, and he never, ever, ever says bad words…just sayin’).

Needless to say I’ve taken loads of SHIT from people (sorry dad…and Jesus) over this minivan ordeal. In fact, my friends love to laugh at me and make fun of my vanity license plate and car magnets. I know what you’re thinking…no, we do NOT have stick figure stickers…that’s a whole ‘NOTHER ballgame. But in my world you either go big or go home, so heck yeahhh, my license plate is a dead give-a-way that this minivan is mine. Allllll mine, baby.

Until tomorrow.

That’s right. Tomorrow I will be handing over the keys to Vannah (yep, I even named her Vannah…White, of course) in exchange for an SUV, courtesy of my Ford employee husband.

My friends and I have had a “minivan countdown” going for a while now…and now that it’s here I can’t help but think of the symbolism behind this stupid crappy minivan (sorry, Vannah…nothing personal)...

This minivan has been a stage in my life. In fact, I’m confident I could give any AP English teacher a field day with the symbolism behind this car…it has been a symbol of my life. I was the “single, minivan-driving mom” for quite a while…and yes, it sucked at times, but it was also part of my journey.

The day I met my {now} husband I was mortified to have to tell him I was the girl driving the {dirty} minivan...oh, yeah...I almost forgot to mention the fact that there is ZERO motivation to keep a minivan sparkling clean. In fact you could probably find "clean" and "minivan" in the antonym section of your thesaurus.

Clean, dirty, and just downright nasty at times, Vannah has witnessed smiles, tears, and everything in between. Sand from beach trips, snow (and ditches) thanks to ice storms, dirt from bicycles, giggles from kids, and kisses from people I love. If the walls of this minivan could talk I’m sure they’d have a LOT to say (it’s probably best they can’t!)

My minivan has been such a source of conversation I even suggested “The Ex-Wives Guide to Rockin’ the Minivan” as a sequel to our literary agent (Valerie vetoed that before I could get it on paper…)

Life has a funny way of teaching us lessons…even if it’s in the form of giant un-cool automobiles. My friends cringe, but I will smile, as I look back on my minivan days. They may be gone, but they will not be forgotten.

In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I urge you to be thankful for the stage of life you are in, right now. Even if it just so happens to involve a minivan.

xoxo Holiday

p.s. save your money and skip the shrink...this too, shall pass : )