Growing up, my dad drove quite a few VW bugs. He would drive one until there was so many miles on it, he'd trade it in for another. With a family of 5, and three girls, someone always had to sit on the hump when we went places together. You know, the "hump" where the center of the seat divides the one side of the passener seat from the other. One thing for sure - the hump wasn't the most comfy spot at all. Many times, I remember yelling a different version of "shotgun" just to be guaranteed I got a window seat. Whoever called, "I got the window" usually got one of the window seats. But, on those days when there was an extra person in the back seat, one of us had to sit in the very back - you know, the small, cramped space my sis and I called the "back back". Hard to believe that both my twin and I fit perfectly in the back back. In fact, I think it was a better seat than even the "hump".
Life is like that sometimes. You get the window or sometimes, unfortunately, the hump. When I'm sitting on the hump, I try to remember a few things. One: humps don't last always. Some how, life changes and the next trip may be filled with a cool window view. Then, when you think it can't get any worst, you're are given the privileged spot of the back back. Knees scrunched almost to your chest, there's something exhilarating about being placed in a pretzel position with your twin sister bumping along with you. So, when you're experiencing those back back moments, what better way to get through it than with a friend who not only shares your pain but pats your back and says, "This too shall pass".
Years ago, I was given a shih tzu puppy, Samson. He was the baby I yearned for and I carried him around with me, even in a baby snuggie just so that he could feel safe. After a day, Samson began to get sick. He drooped and lacked energy. I called the vet and he suggested Pepto Bismo until he could see him the next day. I stayed up with Samson that night, watching him, holding him, talking to him. He began to perk up and just when I thought th worst was over, he went back to delirious again. I held him in my arms as we rushed to the animal hospital. I believed somehow, the vet would give him a shot and he'd miraculously perk up and pull through. That didn't happen. Within 3 minutes of arriving, my Samson died. I cried wondering what it was that I did or didn't do. Holding Samson's blanket, I walked back inside the house, numb. Then, there was a knock on the door. My neighbor and good friend had blessed me with a card and small flowering plant that she called the Samson plant. I planted it, watered it, nurtured it, wanting so much to feel happy again. The happiness came when the first flowers bloomed on Samson's plant. Beautiful, purple flowers. I realized at that moment that the flowers were God's way of reminding me that sometimes, I sit on the hump but on the ride back home, I may get a window view.