Stella at rest London, ON June 2019 This photo originally shared on Instagram |
Stella is the name we assigned to Debbie’s car. I realize it may sound strange to personify a vehicle, but add it to the list of small, inoffensive quirks that set our little family apart. We got her just as her dad got sick, so in a way the story of this otherwise unremarkable red crossover is the story of this entire, difficult journey.
The countless trips back to Montreal, early mornings in ice storms, slow crawls through hospital parking structures, quiet moments just staring out the window in dusty highway rest stop parking lots, trying to catch our breath before the next frightening thing happened.
When the universe around us seemed so unpredictable, it was strangely comforting to be able to rely on something as mundane as a car. I’m not a “stuff” person, and you’ll never hear me brag about the things I own. Experiences and character matter so much more than mere things. But it still felt good to know Stella was always parked outside, always ready to take us anywhere, no matter the weather.
We take spontaneous mobility for granted, but perhaps we shouldn’t. Perhaps we owe it to ourselves to be thankful for the ability to be where we need to be, when we need to be there, in a way that doesn’t freak us out along the way. We needed mobility this year. Stella delivered.
Sometime before every long journey, I place my hand on the taillight and reflect on the road ahead. When we arrive, I do the same thing, a quiet thanks for a safe trip. I know Stella is inanimate, but that doesn’t make me any less appreciative we had her to guide us through the better part of a year we wish had never happened.
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