I am preparedness at it's best and worst. Out of my car we could likely survive a week stranded on a snowed in mountain road (though we wouldn't be stranded as I have chains), enjoy both a warm water and a cold water swim vacation, assist in multiple accident scenarios with our first aid kit (done that), and switch comfortably between three climate zones and engage in appropriate sporting activities in each.
Overkill maybe, but everything's in there because I've needed it at some point and either had it or didn't. There's a lot, mind you, that we don't need in there as well. I'm sure you have it, too, if you have kids: chopsticks, random crayons or markers, glitter, colored pipe cleaners, plastic knives (less helpful than spoons or forks which seem to magically morph into said knives), hair clips, dessicated baby carrots, stale pretzels, doll clothes (but no doll), fifty non-working pens and thirteen pencils with the tip broken off (and no sharpener). Less necessary, but infinitely more difficult to remove permanently from the car. I don't love the volume of this, the fact that every time the kids get into the car more stuff goes in and they always get out empty handed, but I like the preparedness of my car contents on the grander scale. Check this out.
My kids have watched while I assisted at a car wreck, latex gloves and first aid kit in hand. They have needed the helmets, the changes of clothes. They've been able to swim in the wetsuits without it being on the schedule, they've recently become addicted to the jumpropes. I've certainly never felt like I had one too many diapers in the car, and I have been glad that I've had the balls, the blankets, rackets, the hats, gloves, mittens, and the snacks (the fresh ones, not the dessicated carrots). I see it as readiness to embrace the possibilities that are so abundant in our lives.
The real reason, most likely, is that it keeps happy the little part of me that is and always has been ready and willing at any time to jump into the car and hit the open road. I even keep an old pair of running shoes, shorts and shirt ready should I forget my gym bag, or find unexpectedly an hour and a trail and two empty car seats.
Life is not only a highway or a road, for us it might well be a river, pool, park, field, court, snow hill or mountain trail. And we're ready to live it. We're also apparently just about due for a good car vacuum job as well.
As far as preparedness goes, I love that Sawyer sleeps with his tennis racquet, prepared for midnight dreams of tennis or racquetball matches in which he is suddenly not bound by the lack of coordination and vertical ability of being two, but rather floats effortlessly across the court, hitting each shot without losing any of his usual laughter.
I also love that we have friends who are prepared as well. Seth who packed a first aid kit in his kayak for a spur of the moment kayak trip with Tom on Weber Creek. I am grateful that he went with Tom, grateful that he patched him up so beautifully. I am glad that outside the confines of my car, our community is poised in preparedness. Tori came running the moment I called and asked if she'd mind putting on her nurse's cap. She wasn't prepared with the saline solution she needed to clean Tom's wound, so she went home and got it and came back with Marek and Stella and Zoe as cavalry. Nothing like having a nurse's husband saying "Dude, that definitely needs stitches," as he watches his wife work on your head.
When we descend on the park en masse, we are prepared: more bikes, helmets, scooters, jumpropes, sweaters, lollipops and snacks than we could ever need. Need a tissue? Check. Bandaid? Check. Goldfish crackers? Check. Shoulder to lean on? Double, triple, quadruple check. When someone in our ranks gives birth, or the most healthy and hardy among us comes down with a bizarre and rare waterbourne disease, or is diagnosed with something we wouldn't wish on our enemies while still managing to be incredibly grateful and awesome, we rally.
Good friends are gearing up for an epic match against the big C and the community is getting ready as well. We're just as ready for the hard times as the good. Tennis rackets or fundraisers. You name it. Perhaps our community is simply a macrocosm of my car. But without the stale pretzels - preparedness at it's best. After all, nothing's better about an epic road trip than having a wonderful place to come home to.
