Chooch

It takes time for words or reason or even events to sink in.

For me, at least.

Tomorrow, someone is picking up my Micra.

While it means that things have gone according to plan, a bigger part of me is at a loss. Chooch meant a lot of things to me.

She represented freedom. Independence. She was my escape. She spoke out to me at the time. When I was angry, she'd let me manoeuvre in and out traffic with ease. When I was sad, she'd be there in silence as I drove teary eyed to a quiet destination. When I was elated, she'd blast up the walls of the car with music that I loved... wind in my hair... sun on my skin.

When I knew I had gone up a curb, I'd gently rub the top of the Micra in shame. Cream coloured with a soft cottony feel. And I'd tell her that I was sorry.

Eunice and Rodney were there when I chose her. There was no doubt that I loved the cute buggy eyes, the rounded curves and the colour. The colour especially signified a new level of confidence for me. I was learning more about myself. What I liked. What put a smile on my face. And the colour showed a different side of me. One that was hidden from the world. And one that was out of my comfort zone. But one that spoke out to me.

I drove her yesterday and a part of me knew. I knew that it was time to let go. I bopped my head along to music that could be heard beyond the walls of the Micra. I made a U-turn. She is sooo good at U-turns.

And then before switching off the car for the very last time, I took out all the CDs. One by one.

Five years.

How my life has changed in the last five years. I continue to have the same values but with a stronger commitment. And on a very different scale.

I question whether this is me. Without the micra, am I still being true to myself? *in hushed tones* I feel that I am. This IS me. I was and am ready to have a bigger car. In my own terms. Fortunately, it aligned with Eugene's terms. It was equally as important to him for me to be happy with the choice as he was. We had very heated conversations... shouting matches to be exact...

Sometimes we think we are ready but we really are not. And when we get caught out, our defences go up and all logic goes out the window. All that remains is the emotion that is thrown around the room and neither goes anywhere. Credit goes to Steve for pointing out the latter train of thought.

But we need to be true to ourselves. Even if it means baring it all. Losing face. Admitting our weaknesses.

We cannot bite our tongues. Not forever. Not to maintain peace. But when we realise that it is not about biting our tongues or keeping peace but enjoying a different perspective, we begin a new journey in life. It is not one that I have perfected [nor will I ever] but one that I am embarking on.

I recognise it through emotion. Whenever I think back and feel bad for something that I have done or said, I lock in that emotion. Because that emotion drives me to react or behave a certain way. And when I feel that same emotion again or realise that I am in a similar state of mind, I stop and actually try to assess what I truly feel. In that time to think, I have allowed for a change in attitude. One that is less harsh, less doubtful and more importantly, less frustrated.

And that is applicable with all aspects of my life because I can get defensive and emotional far too quickly. But that is not necessarily a bad thing either. I get extremely emotional when I do something for someone. It is with emotion that I see reason to give something of myself. I can get so emotionally attached to people [and things]. It grounds us and helps us make an effort with people dear to us.

I have hay fever. I wake up with hay fever. I go to sleep with hay fever. My body is feeling so much discomfort right now. I think now that I have been able to scribe my thoughts, my body's like, okay, my turn.

To memories that last a lifetime.