by Jessica Kuzmier

Created on: September 17, 2009

I sat in the passenger seat of the Chevy van, a place which had sat on and off for the last fourteen and a half years. Humidity was building up in this early hot summer morning. In that steam, a drop of water crawled down the windshield, like a teardrop. In the state of mind that I was in, it seemed as though the van was crying, knowing that it fate was sealed.

It could seem on this early Tuesday morning that nothing had changed. The van was in the same driveway it had known for ten years, the plates identifying it as ours were still on it. Many times it was parked in this same fashion as we prepared to hit the road with it, a faithful companion on travels to destinations unknown. But this time, this was no destination unknown. As far as my life was concerned, it was the final destination. Later on this day, the van that I had come to love and know would be nothing more than a trade-in. Sitting in the silence of the morning, looking out the window as I had for nearly a decade and a half, it seemed all so far away. And yet, it had never seemed so real.

The Chevy van had become part of our small family in the month of April 1995. It came during a period of acquisition after a long bout of crisis. Part of carpe diem, seize the day. Along with a dog and several other accouterments, the van was part of a cohort which symbolized life and the enjoyment of it. After years dealing with the medical problems of other people, it was time to get out and enjoy life. A van would be a perfect way to get out there and see the world that I had been missing all this time. And not any van. This was a Chevy g20 van. And not just that. It was a conversion van. When I bought the van way back then, I kept dreaming and planning of all the places that we would take it, what trails we would take. The adventures that awaited me, I could have only dreamed of before. With this van, they became reality. And I saw more than I would have if I had just jumped on a plane, zonked out in a state of jet lag, and zoned my way out of the airport feeling like I had been kidnapped by zombies.

For one, there was just the trips to Florida to see relatives. Then there was the one to Niagara Falls. As a conversion van, we were able to take out the seats in the back, creating our own mini camper. Rest stops became temporary hotel rooms, and the van, the dog, my husband and I were on the road crisscrossing the United States, and crossing into Canada once or twice. Because of the van, I visited thirty

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