One of my favorite things in all of the world is my car. Not so much the physical object of the 1999 Nissan Altima. My car is fabulous, don't get me wrong. It's a lovely four-dour sadan with power windows, a moon-roof, and a CD player. Gets great gas mileage. Her name is Star, Morning Star, more accurately. My best friend named her for me after a devastating accident claimed the "life" of a car I like better, which had been named "Lacey" by another good friend. And before there was Lacey, my treasured green 1996 Honda Civic without nearly as many niceties as Star, I drove around in family cars. One a blue Ford Taurus (1990 I think) that I hated but cherished (it had the dents to prove it.) The other, a dark blue 1988 Chevy Caviler Hatchback, was the car in which my dad taught me how to drive.
One of my favorite things in all the world is my car. In my car I am myself like I am nowhere else. I am most times, alone. And free. I've always felt free behind the wheel. I love to drive - it clears my head. But it's more than that. I don't have to answer to anyone and I've learned routines in the car that allow me to be myself with God. It's a wonder I actually get anywhere anymore. I love open roads. Country drives. I wish I could do them more frequently.
In all the world, one of my favorite things is my car. It doesn't matter what physical form the car takes (one of the best ones was the yellow one I rented once; so fun!) if it's my car and I'm alone, I'm free. Point A to Point B never made a whole lot of sense to me. I like to drive just for the heck of it. (Then gas got so darn expensive...) I take long-cuts instead of short ones. And I've gotten accustom to the small inconveniences of sometimes (lots of times) getting lost on the road. After the anxiety wears off, if I'm not in a hurry, I try to make it an adventure.
In all of the world my car is one of my favorite things. I haven't been able to drive it now for nearly two months. I can drive. But it takes effort. A lot of effort. And I won't go far. I refuse and am actually unable to take my car to any destination that is more than 15 minutes from where I begin. And when I do - the brief times that I get to spend behind the wheel now - are horrifying moments of hopping I will not be dizzy from point A to point B. All of a sudden destination driving has a meaning to me it's never held before. This is such a change. Such an adjustment. I don't know what to do about it.
I'm grateful beyond measure for the friends and the other cars, and the help and the company in the car...but I just want my car back. I just want it the way it's supposed to be. I want to be the one behind the wheel...alone, knowing I'm okay. If this were the only thing that had changed it might be okay. But it's not. It's only one. And it's not just about my car.
Back in college, in 2004 when blogging was hardly even a thing yet, I was here. Blogging before blogging meant anything to anyone. You can look in the archives for my past writings, but it was much more like a journal in the past. When we started fundraising, I messed around with the idea of launching something new for this new phase of our journey but actually hated that idea. I am a sum of all of my life and so much of it is here already. So I'm keeping it here. At least for now.
My main focus these days is blogging about our newest journey into the bizarre and wonderful world of gestational surrogacy. Posts dated 2013 and forward will trend heavily toward that journey. I don't promise everything I write will be about though. There might be other things that sneak in occasionally.
Please come along our journey with us. As the saying goes, "The more, the merrier!"
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