Of Love, Loss & Car

cooking, Love & Life

2013 is turning out to be quite the year!

As you all know – I’ve been dealing with a pulled muscle in my hip, taking the prescribed pain medicines & muscle relaxer only as-needed. It turns out it was a good thing I had some left over –

Last Wednesday (the 16th) I was in a gnarly accident on my way to work. Don’t panic – both myself and the other driver walked away with no injuries (thank god) but our cars weren’t so lucky. My poor Hyundai lost traction on the slushy highway, and spun out – the other driver wasn’t able to stop in time, and hit my car along the rear passenger side.

My mini tank (Elantra) took it like a champ – the damage seeming relatively superficial at the scene. The other driver’s 2010 Audi looked worse, having hit me head on. Turns out, looks can be deceiving. The damage to my car was worse than we expected – the suspension was off, the break hose destroyed, the tire dangling from it’s frame – and that was only the damage they assessed. My insurance provider broke the bad news on Friday that my car; passed down to me after the passing of my beloved Nonni, which drove me back and forth to college, down to North Carolina & back, took me on countless road trips and late night adventures, and who’s old-lady status protected me from the laser beams of speed police, was totaled.

I was, and continue to be, devastated by the loss of my car. While I continually remind myself that the important thing, and the the thing my grandmother would be most concerned with, is that I am safe and sound – I’m still mourning the loss.

My car was the biggest (physical) piece of my grandmother I had left – and, initially, it felt as though I was losing her presence in my life. It felt like I wasn’t going to have her protection over me anymore – because, for as long as I had my car, she was in my mind every day, every time I got in the car, she was there. Losing the car felt like loosing her.

The more I thought about losing this physical reminder of her – the more pieces of her I found inside my apartment. I have the blanket from my alma mater she bought when I was accepted to college. I have 1/2 of the necklace she wore every day – a small gold heart that I wear daily. I have (and you’re not going to believe this) her old toaster – which still works like a charm. I found the letter she wrote me when I went away to college – in the drawer of her 1920’s sewing machine/end table.

More importantly – and this is something I’ve only discovered recently – I have her cooking skills. While it never interested me before – I’m not too shabby around the kitchen. Like her – my measurements aren’t always exact, I make a mean home-made pasta, and I always end up with sauce on my shirt.

The car wasn’t her – I wasn’t under her guidance only within it’s metal frame. She’s watching, protecting, following, and loving regardless of what I’m doing, where I am, and whatever I’m cooking.

Excuse me – I can hear my pasta water boiling šŸ™‚


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