We've been having to park the van under the shade trees to keep it from getting hellishly hot. This usually works out pretty well, even if it means a longer trek to the house. However, this summer, we have aphids in the trees, and they have been making honeydew . . . which is a polite way of saying 'bug shit.' This has gotten all over the van. It's nasty. My roommate has been washing it off with the stuff we have around the house. Today, he decided we should just take the van to the car wash.
I think I've mentioned this before, but I love the car wash. I have, ever since I was a little kid. I'm not sure where this love came from, because I can't remember or even imagine which of my parents would have been nonlazy enough to go to one. At some point, however, it seems that one of them did, and from this experience, I developed a wonder for the process that has stated with me to this day.
I love being in the car as it's being washed. I like how the big brushes are like having some giant toothbrush go over your vehicle. I like watching the colored soaps foam up everything. I love watching the high pressure water hit everything and make it all pure and clean again. When the car is being washed, sound seems to change. Everything disappears, other than the sound of the washers and water. It's the whole world, just surrounding you in a cocoon of cleanness. It never fails to make me happy.
When we're kids, it seems like there are many, very small things that set our imaginations on fire. I believe it's important to hold onto those. Childhood, for many of us, was neither ideal nor stable. When we did have those times of peace and serenity, it felt like winning the lottery. Sometimes, even the smallest moments of knowing pure joy or wonder, of even a bit of peace when we were children can help push us through the awful moments of adulthood.
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