I tried to be independent for as long as I possibly could. Around the age of 30, I got to the point where I couldn't stand long enough to pump gas into my own car. I'd either have Steve or my mom fill my tank.
This evening, Steve was driving my car (with me and the kids in tow) and we needed to get gas. When we stopped at the Holiday Staion, he hopped out of my car and began pumping while emotion filled my heart. I'm not sure how I am no longer the woman I once was. In my old life, I had to plan ahead accordingly. If I wanted to drive myself to a friend house or my parents home, I had to be sure there was enough gas to get me there. Basically, I kept my tank half full so I wouldn't put myself in a bad situation.
Nowadays, I don't give it a thought as to how much gas is in my tank. If I want to go somewhere, I get in my car and go. Being independent is such a luxury and one that I thought was gone forever. I have so much to be thankful for: my husband, Steve and a body that allows me to do what I want (two things that I never thought I'd have).