I was washing my dishes in the outside sink (my kitchen renovation is three months overdue) and the skittish lesser-striped swallow couple were feeding their cheeping babies above my head.
Monkeys were starting to forage nearby, and my fluffy, white bunnies were napping under the washing after a usual night of exploration and mayhem around the yard.
I reached past the terrifying earwig that appears on my sponge each morning, and picked up an item from the soapy water.
ALSO READ : Oribi Mom: Keep the lights on and call somebody
Confused, I did a double take as my collector’s mug emerged with bubbles and coffee stains.
My expensive collectible 2012 Korean Grand Prix mug stared back at me.
I could not believe this heirloom had been used for coffee, but I remembered that it had been a crazy week with too much work, too little sleep, and no energy for regular dishwashing in my scenic scullery.
It has been a month of several power outages, including a five-day streak after some lightning, and sick babies juggled with looming deadlines.
That mug represented all that came before this chaos, when we still contemplated having an adult display shelf instead of only toddler-friendly zones.
It told tales of calm and adventurous years of travel, extended honeymoons, and lots of sleep. It was a different life stage, not better, just different.
It was a time when it was the two of us taking a last-minute road trip in a foreign country to see a real Grand Prix, an event we only dreamed about attending during our lifetime.
Vettel fans, we put the track into our Korean-speaking GPS – no small feat, I promise you.
In a comedy of errors that we laughed about afterwards, there was no room at the hotel and no way to park at the track without a permit.
Luckily, we chose a hotel that was full of press for the Grand Prix.
Two kind French journalists overheard our predicament and shoved two press parking passes into my husband’s hand, saying “follow me” just like that little shrimp in Finding Nemo.
Our borrowed Matiz kept up with their Mercedes as if its life depended on it, living up to its local reputation as the mosquito of the highway.
They told us explicitly to zoom through the checkpoints as if we belonged there, and we did. Before one of these obstacles, we were almost shoved off the road by a pompous black sports car carrying none other than Heikki Kovalainen.
We found our seats in time for the parade, and those F1 drivers waved right at us as the thunderous Korean air force formation zoomed overhead, more deafening than anything that raced around the track that day.
Even when my broken collector’s mug is a mosaic on an old pot plant in fifty years’ time, it will still be true that we raced our Matiz against an F1 legend.
Great memories don’t need a shelf. Oh, and Vettel won.
HAVE YOUR SAY
Like the South Coast Herald’s Facebook page, follow us on Twitter and Instagram
