Many parents these days have that mirror in their car that is hooked to the backseat, which allows the driver to see their child’s face and ensure they are okay in the car. I know, I know, these mirrors are fancy, and they probably didn’t have them back when I was a kid…
Anyways, I still had mine up in my car last week. When I was driving home from work, I looked to check my surroundings (yes, I try to be a safe driver), and there it was: An empty, faceless mirror.
Anyone who ever got to ride with Archer knew how much he loved the car. He never fussed when we put him in his car seat. He loved to finish his afternoon nap when dad picked him up from school. Or he and I played peek-a-boo; I was in the passenger seat, of course. Or we would just glance at your smile while driving. And boy, did he smile and light up when taking a drive until he fell asleep.
One time, while we were on our way home from church, we stopped to get lunch. Archer happened to be fussy this day, so we put Theo’s phone on his lap and played all of his favorite songs. This calmed him down and got him distracted, and Theo and I were even singing along to the songs. All of a sudden, we hear:
“The wheels on the bus,” and then it jumps back to “The wheels on the bus”…
”The wheels on the bus go round”….
”The wheels on”…
“The wheels on the bus”…
Theo and I didn’t know why the song kept skipping back to the beginning. Here, Archer had fallen asleep with his hand on the phone, and every time we drove over the slightest bump, Archer’s resting hand would start the song over. We could not stop laughing, and it is still a memory that brings us joy.
But honestly, this week, the empty, faceless mirror crushed me.
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