It was the summer of 2012 and I was 15.
I didnt know a lot of kids my age at the time who drove, and certainly no girls.
So it was a huge deal for me.
Photo by Lucas Vieira via Unsplash
One fine day, my mom finally had me sit behind the steering wheel.
I raced the pedal, shifted gears, and successfully completed a round of our small township.
My dad was too sick to drive, and I, too scared.
Needless to say, those were five very long hours of criticism.
3 hours to go
The COVID-19 pandemic hit and the whole nation was under lockdown.
My dad was about to undergo a bone marrow transplant and needed multiple blood transfusions.
So, I decided to cross state borders and drive donors to the hospital.
It is for me, because I was driving when my dad passed away.
All these years, it seems, life was just preparing me for that one drive.
My mom and I left home as soon as my uncle called from the hospital.
He said it was serious.
It had been serious a couple of times before too, so my mom still had hope.
We reached the hospital and I knew something was wrong.
I could feel it in my bones.
I wont bore you with the details.
At least, thats what everyones been saying.
