Lolita

I've got music playing.  The window is cracked open to let in some fresh air.  And I'm cleaning out my closet.  I have too much clothes that I don't wear and the small space has gotten to be quite a mess as I switch back and forth between hot and cold weather.  So I went in hoping to find plenty I can donate so there is more space for organization and the pile is growing so it is a success already, even though I'm far from done.

But I just came across a t-shirt, pushed back into a far corner, that made my breath catch in the back of my throat.  It's dark brown with the Volkswagen logo on it.  I bought it to match the car I was driving at the time.  I named that car Lolita.  She was a beautiful chocolate brown five speed Jetta TDI with a tan interior.  She and I spent so many hours on the road together because at that time my daily round-trip commute was about 80 miles which included rush hour at times.  She was fun to drive.  She was smooth and comfortable.  And she would get over 50 mpg which I found fascinating.

I chuckle as I read that paragraph above.  Towards the end, my ex-husband expressed disappointment that I never shared with him his interest in cars.  But that paragraph above reflects quite a bit of interest that existed at some point before his obsession started to highlight his inconsideration and before it put me in an almost parent-like role of having to say no or slow him down when his impulses weren't in our best interests.

I don't remember how much time I had with Lolita before we moved on to the next car but it wasn't long enough.  I don't remember pushing back though at this point in our marriage when he wanted to sell it for something else.  I'm not even sure it crossed my mind that it was an option to push back.  This was just how we did things as a couple.  Trading in cars on what often felt like a whim.  Moving on when he was bored.  I think I just saw it as the price to pay for loving him and I had convinced myself it was such a small price to pay.  What woman wouldn't like the luxury of always having a car still new enough to be under warranty?  In hindsight, I know though that it is a lot more complicated than that overly simplistic question.

I drove some other fun cars over the years but none felt as comfortable and right as Lolita did.  So as I hold this t-shirt today, I feel a loss, a complicated grief.  It's a good, nostalgic memory wrapped in a larger context of inconsideration, self-absorption, and childish impulses.  And maybe it's a loss I never really allowed myself to grieve.