Van Mother is leaving.
This has been in the works for a while but I didn't really want to post about it in because this woman made for really great Vanpool Chronicles fodder.
She is moving to another suburb to join another vanpool.
After she dropped that bombshell she spent the next few weeks telling whomever was sitting next to her about her new house. All I really remember hearing is that she got a monster discount (yeah, it's called the subprime mortgage collapse) and that it is a Pemberley-esque estate of 4,000-plus square feet. Who needs a 4K foot house, honestly? Before you sharpen your knives and accuse me of rampant, unbecoming jealousy know that I am most happy in my suburban dwelling even though I still find use for my $7 garage sale loveseat and my walls are a tad sparse.
I'm going to miss Van Mother because to me she represented that idyllic suburban fantasy, the wife and mother with a good job and a pretty face. I can't imagine her as teenager, smoking cigarettes and screwing around with boys. She will always be that responsible mid 30s woman that I always knew I could never be. I could never see myself living in her complete stop, hospital corners world with babies tugging at apron strings and casseroles in the oven. I knew I would never look right in beige mid-heels with perfectly coiffed hair wearing clothes with flowers on them and going to church and not swearing. Or having legions of girlfriends and Mary Kay parties and Cheerios crushed into the mats of my minivan.
Van Mother, you are American dreaminess. And as I said my silent goodbye to you, driving away before anyone else, I saw you in my rear view mirror. I saw people on the vanpool hugging you and wishing you well, but I know I'll miss you most of all. Not because your WASPiness amused me or because you were always the first to speak up when the van got too cold, but because you let me glimpse a life so different from my own.