A place I've shared half of my memories with.
It has held and embraced my most vulnerable moments,
carried me through each stage of my life, my first day of middle school, my first job, my first date, road trip.
It carried me home that day I got my period in Pei Wei but refused to call my mom and leave early because I was hanging out with the cool theatre kids.
It carried me home the night of graduation, and held me while I sobbed and thought the world I had so carefully crafted around me was falling apart.
It never spat back what I gave it.
Instead, it wrapped it's polyester arms around me and didn't let go until the world was right side up again.
The passenger seat, given a name to indicate it's existence lies solely in the idea that there must be a driver.
A mother, friend, stranger,
A lover to your left, the world to your right and endless possibilities in front of you.
Whether it be screaming at the top of your lungs to a song you minimally like, or spilling ranch on the seat because "you didn't slow down fast enough that wasn't my fault!"
Now I bravely sit in the drivers seat, the world at my fingertips.
And as I bravely glance over to my 11 year old brother sitting beside me, I know it is his turn to sit back and watch.