Oldies

I spent years 0-11 of my life cooped up in an old mini-van, driving from point A to point B only to wind up on 93-S heading wherever the dashed yellow lines told us to. There I sat on the last seat of the back row, looking out the right hand window, two seats behind the passenger sitting at shot-gun. I always pretended I was an orphan being taken away by child services as I waved back in sadness at the family I thought was standing at the steps of an old yellow house - dramatic I know. I pretended my Barbie's were stuck in a Hurricane and left homeless, that the red nail polish was a teen mom and birthed a blue one, but my most poignant memory are the tinted window shades the tan mini-van carried inside. My cup holder never carried a cup, but miscellenous hair clips, cookie crumbs and remains of Barbie clothes and Polly Pocket shoes. In the backdrop were pine trees and road signs, in the backdrop FM station 103.3.