Returning home from a week with my grandson, 200K popped up on my car’s odometer, sort of a parallel to my current life. I certainly felt like I had over two hundred thousand miles on me, considering all that had happened in the previous six days. My nieto is an active chap from as soon as he says good morning right up until it’s time for bed. This abuela needs not only some physical down time, but mental recharging. I’m just not as young as I used to be.
But beautiful memories lessen the distance that helped to accrue those 200K miles on my vehicle; The Burrito and I traveled into space, courtesy of his imagination and my (limited) knowledge of the solar system. We fought fires, had puppet shows, drew snowmen, and battled the Fan Monster, which consisted of a box fan behind my bedroom door. We called for Superman’s help, colored various Christmas-themed pictures, put away decorations, and read mountains of books. Puddles were conquered, stained glass art created, mac and cheese cooked, and the sting was taken from nap and bed times, instead becoming an opportunity for him to ‘grow’. When he woke, I asked if he’d grown, and he happily said oh yes, showing off his strong muscles.
Of course, his nap on my last day was preceded by tears; saying goodbye isn’t easy. Driving home, I considered our visit, also watching the miles tick away on the odometer. Suddenly 200,000 appeared, my goodness! I’ve had this car since we moved back, nearly eleven years, jeez…. It had just a little over 18K when we purchased it, and other than a failed cruise control, still runs very well. It’s taken me on countless road trips, and God willing has another 100K left in the engine. Goodness knows I hope many miles remain for me to traverse.
Coming home, I also pondered how much I like driving, the California girl in me, I suppose. It’s strange to think we’ve been back in my home state nearly as long as we lived in England, good grief! I’ll turn around one day and my eldest grandkids will be preteens, lol. Time shifts so swiftly now, it’s as if eleven years is maybe one, 200,000 miles like a trek to visit my grandson. It’s the middle of January already, Miss Em a month old! The Burrito will be three in February, another consideration as I sped along freeways. I traveled the same roads in 2015, right before his arrival, when my father was still living. Dad’s been gone now going on those three years, but those of us remaining keep right on trucking.
Suffice to say, last week was full of deep truths as well as jovial play times. Upon my return home, I was definitely knackered, also exceedingly grateful to have been a part of The Burrito’s life for several days. Now at home, I can mull over those life lessons, made sweeter by memories that aren’t merely mine, but my grandson’s too. What he’ll recall of these days is unknown, but maybe he’ll remember the feeling of love shared. To me, that’s the best recollection of all….