Letter From a Van
I love you. I really do. We have gone on many wonderful adventures together like trips to the zoo, sunny days at the beach, and countless rides to the park. I have not once left you at the side of the road, even though I may have felt like it.
I safely take you to school, pick you up, drive you everywhere you need to go and I don’t complain. Why? Because it’s my job; I take pride in it.
But I have to tell you, I am not feeling the love. Yesterday there were crayons under my seat, melted crayons. Do you know how hard melted crayons are to clean? Oh, and half a sandwich got left in one of my cracks. Not. Cool.
Something sticky, that smells suspiciously like a starburst, is on my arm with hair stuck to it. I’m not sure how long it’s been there but long enough for you to have noticed. So would you wipe it up already? Or at least pretend to be shocked when you see it for the hundredth time and then try to wipe it up?
I get that you’re kids. Kids leave crumbs and messes. But why? Why must you throw your socks on me and leave them there. What happened to your shoes? I mean, socks can’t come off if your shoes are on. Where are your shoes? Well, I know where one is because you left it in the trunk. I don’t know how you’ve been getting around with only one shoe. There is another non-matching shoe under my seat that I don’t think belongs to us. That in and of itself is reassuring because that means other kids are losing their shoes too. Maybe it’s contagious?
I could take all of it. The sticky spots with hair on them, socks left about, shoes mismatched, and even the occasional pencil or crayon, but now. Now! I’ve got a funk. That’s right, a smell little people. Maybe it’s from an apple core or some spilt juice or maybe it’s from the other half of that sandwich. I don’t think it’s from the half eaten chicken nugget mom found because it was all shriveled and dried up.
Mom tried to clean out the smell, bless her heart, but she made it worse. I watched her lovingly vacuum and vacuum and vacuum but the smell remained. She tried water and sucked it up with the shop vac. Then it was water with vinegar. Now not only do I have a funk, I smell like funk mixed with fish and chips. As a last resort she tried baking soda which I have to admit helped a bit but there is still a definite funk.
You know what though? I’m getting my revenge. Yes, I am. I am getting my revenge every single day. You know how? I’m still the one you have to take to school and to church and to track practice and to the store….You get my point.
However, I can’t even enjoy my revenge properly because mom has to go along too. She doesn’t deserve this. Maybe she needed to remind you to bring in all of your garbage? Oh wait, she did do that and, funny thing, she thought you took in all your garbage.
Okay, anger and frustration aside, could you do me a favor? It’s small when you think about it.
Throw away your garbage. Take everything out that you put in.
That’s it. Simple.
Please try. Please for us all. Thank you.