Compact Car

Last weekend we sold our wheelchair van. It isn't a news worthy event, however the wheelchair van became an extension of myself. When I was in the driver's seat, even in a quick glance, people saw me as different. Especially when navigating wheelchairs up and down the ramp, the van was an identifier that we were unique. And I came to appreciate the ability to be defined so quickly.

The loss of the wheelchair van is another loss of an identifier as caregiver, mother.

And now I sit in my new little gray hatchback, zipping around the city completely anonymous. No special license plate or hanging placard. No ramp or beeping to accommodate a wheelchair. No little mirror to view all that happens in the backseat. No screen to flip down so Mickey Mouse can be the soundtrack of my travels.

It is part of the process. Moving forward, looking back, wishing for what was and wondering what will be.

The van has a new home with a lovely family. They have a young daughter who will ride in the center space in the comfort of her wheelchair. The mom can now easily roll her in without worrying about lifting, twisting, jostling. The girl's name. Olivia.