My Minivan

 

We packed up my Honda Odyssey for a special journey yesterday, dropping Maddie off for her first year at Mizzou. As expected, my trustworthy minivan fit all of her stuff perfectly; however, I warned Bill that if I had to slam on the brakes, he might want to protect his head from being rammed by a dolly. 

Launching Maddie off to college has made me nostalgic, remembering when we first bought this car and all of special times we have spent in it together. My minivan is the same age as Maddie; we bought it after my Saturn got totaled when Maddie was exactly one month old. The shock of the crash and the airbag deployment made me forget for a moment that we even had a newborn in the car until a stranger said to me through the window, "Is your baby OK?" I thought, Oh my gosh, we have a baby!, and I immediately jumped out and took her out of the car seat to hug her, which is exactly the thing experts tell you not to do after an accident. Fortunately, Bill and I only had minor injuries and Maddie was totally fine, thanks to the protective car seat. However, a young intern came in to survey me about my hospital visit, and I wailed, "Parenting is sooooo hard!" The poor guy left to get a nurse and never got his survey results from me. 

Being new parents, we decided to consider a minivan, making me a total hypocrite who had made fun of my friends for purchasing this rite-of-passage vehicle. Other than the normal concerns of safety and gas mileage, I was all about cup holders. When I financed my Saturn, I couldn't afford to install the cup holder and had to deal with spilled drinks every time I turned a corner. When I asked the sales rep about whether the Odyssey came with cup holders, he lost his poker face for a moment, but then smiled and said, "Ma'am, there are eight of them." By the way, Bill accidentally broke one of them yesterday when we stopped to get gas, but that's OK because we have seven more.

I named my van "Penelope," partially because of the steadfast character in Homer's famous work that bears the same name as my car, but mostly in honor of my mom because it gives me comfort thinking of her "riding" along with me. My favorite road trips involve driving a thousand miles to see my parents in Florida. I love that I can fit all six of us comfortably and that we do not waste a second of precious time riding in different cars. I was really hoping to sneak in one more visit this summer before Maddie left for college, but like most people, Coronavirus changed our plans. As a recent lung cancer patient, my mom is in the highest risk category, and there is just no safe way for us to see her in person right now. This makes me sad, but we are getting by with Facetime and Zoom. My mother even dressed up in her fancy clothes, pearls and heels to watch Maddie's graduation on a laptop in her kitchen. My parents are doing everything possible to stay healthy, and I am hopeful we can plan a trip when it is safe to do so. 

Even though my minivan is more than "lightly worn," it is a testament to the quality of Honda products. It has numerous dings and scratches, doors that beep angrily at passengers, an unpredictable radio volume knob (sometimes it works, and sometimes it blasts music making everyone scream, "TURN THAT DOWN!"), and now a broken cup holder. At one time, three other neighbors on my street proudly owned the same vehicle, but they have since traded theirs in for newer cars. Pop culture even makes fun of it. In John Green's book Paper Towns, there is a hilarious scene where the characters take a hand-me-down Odyssey on a crazy road trip and mock the car's age--and that book was published in 2008. 

 

But when I see my 18-year-old car, I only view it with love. It has been packed full of Costco products, birthday balloons, 40-pound bags of dog food, canned goods for charity, and loads of Girl Scouts. My own father had to lie down on the floor to make space after a trip to Toys R Us, where I impulsively purchased a sandbox, slide and teeter totter for Maddie's 2nd birthday. It was the car that brought tiny Wendy home after a seven-year wait that culminated in a 24-hour plane ride from China. Carpooling preteens have taught me neighborhood gossip and have belted out show tunes from Wicked, and then a year later were eerily silent except for the constant dings of their phones transmitting texts. This wondercar survived teaching Maddie to drive, even though we ended up on the sidewalk in the first five minutes. I think that experience scarred me because I still panic and grab the door when I think she is a little too close to another vehicle.

 

What I'm going to miss most is driving with Maddie to and from high school every day and hearing her talk nonstop with excitement about what the newspaper staff was planning, or an awkward hallway conversation, or even what she learned in class. While there are challenges to working where your kid goes to school, it was mostly awesome. I tried to let her have her space, but I would sometimes step in the hallway between classes just to see her walk by. It was such a joy to see her laughing with her friends, and it was fun to be surprised when she appeared on the video announcements. On March 13, I quipped, "What if today was actually your last day of high school and we didn't even know it?" That comment turned out to be true, or at least, it was her last day of in-person high school. No real chance to say goodbye to classmates face-to-face, no time to thank teachers in person, no more car rides to school with Mom. I was looking forward to a spring and summer full of senior celebrations--prom, final musical performances, awards ceremonies, club banquets and college orientation--to help me process the realization that she was indeed growing up and moving away. Not having some of these rites of passage as expected made it a little tough to transition, but we are all learning some important life lessons, including being flexible and resilient.  

So as we packed the minivan to take Maddie to college, I kept thinking about that hospital intern and wanting to cry out again, "Parenting is sooooo hard!" Because at times, it is. While yesterday certainly had all the feels, I think the anticipatory grief was worse than the actual drop-off. I keep thinking that I am so excited for Maddie, but somebody needs to tell my face. How many good cries does a parent need, really? Alas, it is time for her to leave home, and she is more than ready to take the next step. We are impressed with Mizzou's safety protocols and just hope she can have the most "normal" college experience as possible. While I miss her greatly, I don't want her to have to come home and miss out on a chance to be independent.

So, my minivan needs to hang in there a while. Certainly, we have a lot more trips to take, and Penelope had better be up for the job. While future plans are evolving, I look forward to filling my van once again for Mizzou parent weekends, Girl Scout camping trips, and a much anticipated reunion in Florida.