My Pensieve

"Things don't always turn out the way we think they will," Noelle told me as we built a fort together yesterday afternoon. Oh, the wisdom of a six year old! That night over a dinner of chicken curry, chapati, and cabbage, I learned from Drew that my car had broken down again. Not only did my AC go out this summer, but Mirabelle began having trouble getting herself started. While Drew was at our friend's junk yard looking to buy a very used car (all fixed up, of course), Mirabelle died. Fitting, eh?

"Do you have a car?" Logan asked me today as we drew pictures in the driveway.
"Not really," I told him. But I just found out that I will have my car again! Sean (the man who owns the junk yard and fixes wrecked cars) looked at my car, and is going to fix it for $1200. Before you freak out at what seems to me an astronomically large amount of money, let me tell you a little story.

At the beginning of the summer, a lady backed into my car in a parking lot. After several phone calls and a visit with a friendly Geico man, I was handed a check for $1300. They had given me the choice of having the very large dent in my car repaired, or taking the money the repair would have cost. I chose the cash.

My car is lifeless in a junk yard right now. But God had the mercy to let her break down right where she could be restored to life by a friend. And a few months ago he let me get in a car crash that gave me the money I now need. So I should be rejoicing, right? Well... In my head I know how awesome it is that everything worked out so nicely, and I am truly grateful. In my heart I keep thinking: there goes the laptop I was going to buy (that I NEED, screams me); and, what if I had been driving Mirabelle all summer? (though I know that would have made absolutely no difference); and, why must this happen to me?! Dad just drove up in Drew's beautiful 2004 Saturn. I should be thrilled for him. Right now I'm just jealous that he has air conditioning. Why cannot my heart follow my head when my head is right and my heart is wrong?

There. I feel better. Now that I've thrown these words onto the page, they are gone out of me. Writing is like a pensieve.