There is something about the month of June that tugs at the heartstrings for this mama. The finality of another school year coming to a close. My kids getting another year older. This week the nostalgia hit me like an 18 wheeler. My car died on me a few weeks ago. My minivan. The vehicle I’ve complained about every winter for years. The vehicle I curse when I can’t get a sliding door open and when the drivers side door closes on my left leg because it’s missing a screw. Despite the complaints about my old, crappy minivan, I lamented. And this week, as we get closer to purchasing a new vehicle(I hope) I decided it was time to clean out my minivan. As I pulled out books, nerf gun darts, and lego mini figures a wave of emotion washed over me. This is the vehicle we brought our last baby home in. This is the vehicle that held a baby bucket seat, 5 point harness seats, booster seats… we took it on road trips, laughed, sang, watched the world go by, at one point we told the boys that daddy could make the car fly by pushing a button-but it was only a hover above the ground-I swear they believed it. It’s been through school pick ups and drop offs, sporting events, emergency room visits. We brought home our kitties and our pup in the minivan. I never realized the memories that this one car held until it was no more. It now sits dead in my driveway, 4 wheels and ten years of memories. I cut the relay for life beads down from my rear view mirror, tucked away the bandaids, pencils, and eye-spy bags into a box and wiped a tear from my eyes. I miss those days and those babies-it’s not really about the car-the car is just the connection.

The same wave of emotion swept over me when I parted with Mr. Potato Head-of all things this week! It was time and the Mr and Mrs were needed elsewhere. But the memories in those two spuds I pray will stay with me a lifetime. For awhile the boys and I would sit around and dress those potatoes and make them talk in silly voices. At one time, this was a special game Evan and I played together. When Logan was a baby and down in his crib for the night and Kenny would be giving Christopher a bath, Evan and I would sit on my bed and play with them. It was a sweet time-just him and I. I even went so far as to ask him if he wanted to play potato head one more time with me before we gave them away. He kindly told me maybe-which I knew was a no-and again-I knew that what I had left here were memories and that I no longer needed the physical item, be it potatoes or a beat up, old mini van. But I have the memories and those are what I’ll hold on to-sweet memories.