I just returned from selling our Mini Cooper. It’s been the plan for a few months now in an effort to downsize our expenses, beef up our investments and start work in converting the attic to a master suite. I’m not overly sentimental about things. They’re just things. It’s probably because I moved 9 times in my first 18 years of life. Heck, I’m still not sure if I’ll be keeping my wedding dress. But today saying goodbye to the Mini was a bit tough.
It was inside that speedy little astro black Mini with the white racing stripes that my husband and I spent our first moments alone as a married couple.
I remember those moments so clearly. I remember the rice falling from my hair onto the floor mats and the gear shifter. I remember smiling like little kids, amazed that we had actually done it.
I remember nervously wondering whether we should head down Augusta Road or through Cleveland Park to avoid traffic on the way to the reception.
I’m sure the Mini’s new owner will be good to it. And we’ll always remember where we spent our first moments alone as a married couple; inside that little Mini, so full of memories.