I’m turning in my station wagon next week. His name is Marsh… you know, short for Marshmallow. Thanks to an unscientific study, I am assured that I’m not the only adult who names their cars.
My new car doesn’t have a name yet, but navigation system is named Sally. She just sounds like a Sally, and Sally was the name of Jane’s imaginary friend.
When Jane was almost three, about the time that Alexander was born, she had a friend named Sally. We used to set the table for Sally, we invited Sally to birthday parties, we tucked Sally in at night. When Jane was five we bought a new house, Sally moved with us. I’m not sure when Sally moved out, I think by the time first grade began Sally was gone.
I miss Sally. Sally was my ally. I’d tell Jane that she had to be good or Sally couldn’t go places with us. Sometimes Sally would try new foods that Jane wasn’t interested in, and Sally always agreed with me that it was time for bed.
It’s strange now that we’ve given the nav system to Sally. It’s as if I’m stealing Jane’s imaginary friend.
Maybe 40 year old moms need Sally too.