I sold my jeep today. Really, it was silly to hold onto it for so long, I mean, it's not very practical to have a '95 Jeep when, the majority of the time, you're carting around 4 little ones. I guess a part of me held onto it because it was my "toy", and the other part was because it reminded me of the past. I bought it back when I was seperated from my husband. It wasn't a pretty seperation, and none of it was my idea at the time. I was devastated. I was hurt. It was horrible. I had wrapped my whole identity up in being "the wife of" and I had basically lost myself, so when the seperation happened, I fell apart. It was ugly. But, after some time had passed, I started to get my act together. I started taking care of myself. I made some new friends, I re-kindled friendships long forgotten, I learned how to laugh. And I made an astonishing discovery...I'm a good person. I'm a worthy person. I am smart and funny and kind, and I didn't deserve the shit I'd been putting up with. And I didn't deserve what it did to my self-esteem. And I didn't deserve being last in line. And most importantly, I didn't deserve to lose myself. And I started getting better. I started laughing more. I made big and important plans. I made silly jokes. I made lots of cookies. I made my kids laugh and sing and dance. I found myself, and I liked what I found. And that's when I bought the jeep. So I think I've been scared. Scared to let go of the tangible reminder of that time...the time that started off as the worst in my life, but ended up as the best thing that ever happened to me. I've been scared that by letting it go, I'd be giving up the lesson. Scared that I'd be selling my soul in the front seat of a '95 jeep. And it seems so silly, really. To identify so much with a kicky little car that you're scared when it leaves, that a piece of you will follow. So, today, I say goodbye. And I hope the memory I have is enough to keep me from forgetting what terrible and horrible things can happen to a person when they forget to care about themself. And I hope the memory I have is enough to keep me from forgetting how I felt with the sun on my face and the wind in my hair, after spending so much time in the dark. I hope I remember that I'm good and kind and funny. I hope I remember to bake cookies with my children and to dance around the kitchen table. I hope I remember to take long walks in the sun and to run so fast I can feel the wind in my hair. I hope.