I have been holding on to some news. I am not sure if it is because I was in a bit of denial or because I was worried that if I said something, it might not work out.
I got a job.
It's in New Jersey.
So I have been packing up my life.
And, as my car decided to keep to the timeline I imagined, even though I stepped away from the PhD program.
That is to say, in January it started falling apart, slowly, and painfully (for me).
There was no way to take the car with me. I couldn't even get it south so I could give it to my father's friend. Though I think I have successfully convinced my dad that it wasn't a good idea to give it to the friend who couldn't possibly have the money to sink into making it really drive-able again.
So, I had to make a decision of what to do with the car, the little green machine that has been my constant companion for the past 16 years.
It drove me cross country, away from my ex-husband, into my new life in Oakland. It drove me to the next new life in New Mexico.
It served as my phone booth on those long drives between Oakland and Oxnard ... and sometimes, when I couldn't bring myself to talk to others, as the safe space where I could sing or cry or both.
It was faithful and dependable and constant.
I agonized about the decision, truth be told, though I might not have shown it. In the end, I decided to donate it to KQED in lieu of all the donations I have not been able to make in the past few years. Even as I was sure it was the right thing, it was so painful to let go. I drove it down to the big avenue below my house so that the flatbed truck could more easily hook it up.
As I walked back up the hill to my apartment... to that messier before completely packed state, downcast and tears in my eyes, I spotted a car just like mine parked just where mine had been not twenty minutes earlier.