Open letter of apology.

Baby, I'm so sorry for treatin' you wrong.

I've got to confess that I've been bad mouthin' you all around town. I'll admit that I've had a wandering eye. I've wondered if the grass really is greener someplace else, with someone else. And yes, it's true. I've sometimes been embarrassed to be seen together. It's just that I wasn't really sure you were... well... my type. I'm sorry I called you frumpy.

But baby, since you've gone, I've changed.

I realize now how much I need you. You've always been there for me - and for the kids. You've always been steady and dependable. And nobody else -- not even a newer, younger model -- could ever take your place. I want you back, baby. I can't live without you.

Please come home. I'm sorry. I'll never take you for granted again.

This letter of apology was written for my 2003 Dodge Grand Caravan. Yes, I've openly cursed my van. Yes, I've lusted over two-door hatchbacks and yearned for the day when I could throw sensibility to the wind and drive a car that didn't reek of "practicality."

They say 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone,' and that 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' - and they're right. The cliches are true. I took my minivan for granted. And it took $1,180 and one, full week of cramming three kids with bulky winter coats and 25 lb. backpacks into the back of Mark's Ford Escape to make me realize what a good thing I had going.

And now, I've finally got my baby back. No more cries of, "She's touching me!" or bloody knuckles from trying to secure safety belts between booster seats in sub-zero weather. Now, everyone can hop in, unassisted, secure their own seat belts (well... except Crowbar), and, for the most part, keep their damn hands to themselves.

Glory be! I've got my baby back.

~ ~ ~

Sorry I've been so bad about posting lately. I had to temporarily take down my PC to make room for the Christmas tree and have been using Mark's computer only sporadically. I'm not totally comfortable on it. You know how it is. It's hard to get used to someone else's desk, keyboard and chair - no matter how nice they are.

So, once the tree comes down and the holidays have passed, I promise I'll write more often. Until then, ciao, baby!