washing the car
The pollen has been fierce here in WNC, a true testament of spring. Our black car has been driving around with a thick, gross coat of green, so we decided to take a weekend afternoon to wash it.
Normally, we opt to go through a car wash - paying $12 for a machine to do the work for us, however sloppy it actually is. There’s wonder in that, too, especially when looking over at the backseat to see our girl squealing with delight. Thick, white bubble coat and cover, wind shakes the care - what’s not to delight in? But the slow hour of doing the work together, the laughing, the scrubbing; mother and father and daughter together? That far surpasses in worth the $12 giggle I would have spent.
Sticky, warm springtime sun beating on our skin. A cool breeze flies in from the mountain, tussling our hair and spraying the icy water further than it could before. It’s both lazy and hard work, the perfect definition of a rewarding weekend.
Some of my favorite memories growing up is from washing the car. My sister and I would be assigned to the task often - the worst job being scrubbing barnacles off of boats, but the best one washing our family’s small RV. It was tall and massive, but I remember hours of my sister and I splashing each other with the freezing cold water in the midst of the dreadful Florida heat. Eventually, our younger siblings joined us- dunking sponges and washcloths inside of soppy, soapy water. Running and screaming and chasing each other with hoses and wet rags around the front yard - what a sight we must have made! It was a chore, but it was one that we easily embraced.
Maybe that’s why this car-washing day felt so good, so wonderful to me - just over a decade later, here I am washing my own car with the family that is mine. Splashing, laughing, working together, encouraging each other… what more could I want in a Sunday afternoon?
Washing the car, a chore I never thought I could miss and enjoy at the very same time.