When my youngest daughter was a child, she was afraid of drive-through carwashes. It’s really my fault: One day when, as a toddler, she was sound asleep in her carseat, I took the opportunity to go through a carwash. I never imagined how frightening it would be for her to awaken to noise and lights pounding the windows. Rookie mom move (and I was by that time the mother of 3, so no excuse).
This phobia soon became not only family lore, but a real inconvenience: Any time I wanted to go through a carwash, I had to make sure she was not in the car. To compound the difficulty, my other daughters loved the experience. Yet one more example of how I could never win, as a mother.
Of course, her sisters, knowing the fear, taunted her with it. Although they’ll deny it, I’m convinced they asked me to go through a carwash just so they could witness her shrieking (ahhh… sisters…) They couldn’t fathom, nor could I, why the mirage of lights and water were so terrifying. (Lest you think this phenomenon was short-lived, I’m not actually sure when she outgrew her fear of carwashes, although as an adult she insists she now uses them.)
For me, there’s something quite decadent about putting your car in neutral and sitting back while colored lights dance amidst the watery fractals on your windshield. For a few brief moments, you have permission to do and accomplish nothing. Yet the more I would explain it to my daughter and make it seem like a fun experience, the more she would cry. Finally, one day she said what finally got through to me: “But I un-see what’s in front of me, Mommy. I don’t know what’s coming next.”
As I sat in a carwash in the early days of 2026, I realized Emmy’s fear of carwashes—specifically, that they rendered her unable to see what was ahead of her—is quite a metaphor for a New Year. Already we know that 2026 will bring numerous, significant changes for our family. Thankfully, they’re mostly happy ones. For me individually, the new year will bring personal and professional changes, some of which I wanted and some of which were thrust upon me. I can’t see what’s ahead, and Emmy is right: it is terrifying.
Like the carwash, our lives are flooded, it seems, with magical waterfalls bringing all colors on the spectrum. Yet so often I find it challenging to sit back and enjoy that rainbow effect without wondering what comes next. Am I too busy worried about the future to enjoy my life idling in a good place? Do I forget to notice when things are good?
You know your car is typically dirty when passengers comment on its smell and cleanliness. Mea culpa. Perhaps I got out of the habit when mothering a young child with such a fear. How I wish I could put my disposition, my perspective, through a carwash. I would love for people to commend me for idling, thankful, in the present. I would love to surprise people with my spontaneity.
But I’m convinced worry is inherent to human nature. Like marathon runners, we are always keeping that finish line in our sights. If events—personal, national, global—of the last few months have taught me anything, it’s that the finish line is never stagnant. It keeps moving, and we have to reacclimate.
Perhaps that’s why it’s so important— on a regular basis—to put our lives in neutral, sit back and enjoy the current experience that’s washing over us. Maybe 2026 will be the year where I finally learn to live in the present—to take the time to simply sit and be and know that un-seeing can be a hidden blessing.
Sounds like I’ve just made my New Year’s resolution. Here’s to 2026!
IN THE MIDDLE 