Worn Pockets

I need a new car.

I mean I don’t really “need” one.  Mine still runs, but it’s too big now that my children are older and it has 192,000 miles. The leather on my passenger seat split, so I bought these fancy seat covers, but they’re squirmy and move around a bit. They feel like I have wetsuits on my seats.  Not fun.


It doesn’t have the same appeal that is used to.  I don’t know why, but I tend to sit with old these days.  I really like paid for and paid off too.  There was a time when I ran to new, new was better.  It was clean, it smelled new and it was shiny.  I think as I’ve moved through some life, I’ve realized the new gets old.  New cars get dirty, miles, they become used in a blink. The shine wears off.

If the glitter dulls then why get all worked up about the shine in the first place?

Mixed into this may be an appreciation of what I already have and being a touch apprehensive about what new will bring. My car is comfortable.  I know where all the stuff is, what doesn’t work, it has aged well.  It’s reliable for the most part. New could be so many things, some better, but some not as familiar.  I’m not really up for that right now.  I’m not in the mood to start over, get to know a new car.

I’m not as impressed by the shine anymore.

I’m pretty sure I feel the same way about the impending new year.  Not sure I’m ready and that is completely different.  I’m normally raring to go, excited to start a new calendar and plan, plan, plan.  Not so much right now.  I have four days to find my misplaced love of new.  I can’t drag my feet, or I’ll stall and that is never good.

My thoughts from the laundry room.  Don’t Wake Me.

age courage life meaning

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