The End of an Era (Alternate Title: I Am A Prisoner No More)

When we moved to the swamp over three years ago, my husband worked just up the road. He could have walked there if he'd felt the desire. Instead, he drove a beat up old Toyota pick up that was as old as he is. I could hear the exhaust rumble from the moment he started the engine until he parked at work.

We aren't fancy people, so it worked for us.

I had the car, and Mister Aiden and I came and went without a care in the world.

Unfortunately, my husband's job not only had no guarantee of forty hours a week, but also no benefits. Not a good position to be in with a family and a brand new mortgage.

When offered the opportunity to interview for a new job, my husband jumped on it. A very large company, guaranteed forty hours, incredible benefits, and plenty of room for advancement...what wasn't to love? Ohhh yea....the fact that the job was an hour away.

The ratty ole Toyota wasn't up to snuff for that commute.

We made the decision that the job was too good to pass up, and we'd just have to make do with one car until we got a little more settled.

That was three years ago.

Do you know how long three years can be when you're stuck at home, in the swamp, with no hope of going anywhere all day long?

Let me enlighten you....three years can feel like an eternity. Three years can beat you down, make you question your sanity, and lead to an overall feeling of being completely out of touch with the world.

Every so often we'd reevaluate things, crunch the numbers, stroll around a few car lots. But we just weren't "there" yet. I've had my fair share of emotional breakdowns over the years. It's hard to go from being an independent self-sufficient single professional woman to being stuck in the swamps with no car....very very hard. I constantly reminded myself why we chose this...where we might be in life if we hadn't  gone in this direction  (my husband's former employer has laid off almost the entire workforce, so we'd truly be up a creek if he had stayed there). Yet no matter how much I tried to keep myself focused, cabin fever always seemed to take over.

But.

The times? They are a changin.

We bought a second car.

I have my very own set of wheels again.

We can go the grocery store if I need a loaf of bread. We can go to the park. We can visit the library. We can go where ever we want to now, because I have been paroled.

I have three very long years to make up...