I am excellent.

"I am excellent."

Those were the sincere words exclaimed by a young vibrant 13 year old girl named Adjanie. As she walked in the room you could immediately feel her warmth, her radiant smile shared a story of triumph and hope. 

Our meeting was unexpected. Adjanie wasn't on our agenda for that matinee at the hospital, but after our interview with her everything seemed achievable.

She was open and honest about her experience with HIV.  She knew all the details of her stay at the inpatient ward at Grace Children's Hospital. "I was hospitalized at Grace through out two periods of time, the first period was from June,11th 2009 to September 3rd 2009- a total of 3 months and 17 days... " With the poise of a lady way beyond her years, Adjanie shared with us her story. 

Her thin frame and scarred skin brought to life her sleepless nights, and fatigued body. She had recently experienced a poor reaction to the medication- she had been vomiting for days, felt feverish, her wounds were fresh- her weakened immune system was at a delicate state..  But while yes, her eyes glistened as she spoke- all we could do was sit in awe of this little girl as she recounted her journey with what I always believed to be one of the most horrific illnesses known to man.

Never did she complain, never did she seek pity, never did she speak aimlessly. She spoke confidently, "I live in Delmas 75 with my family ,  I recently came from school- it was wonderful..."  Her words were clear, not muffled- from what I could see she had found her voice. While each day was a constant struggle,s triumph. "... I  was ill , but now I am all better"  She spoke about her hopes for other children facing the same realities she's had to, and prayed  that they had access to the quality health care she had at Grace.

My eyes welled up with tears- when we came toward the end of our session with Adjanie , and asked her how she was.. She boldly stated " I am excellent..."

How could someone, suffering from an incurable virus be excellent? how could someone who was recently hospitalized speak with such sincerity and joy? 

Our mothership...

The term' mother-ship' dates back to the nineteenth century when smaller, faster ships would kill whales for meat and oil ; the term has also achieved prominence in the realm of science fiction where it is applied to spaceships serving as the heart of the fleet , at least according to Wikipedia. Through out history it has adopted various meanings, but when ever I hear the word, the one which always rings true is our 1996 Red Isuzu Trooper.

Growing up in Haiti has had it share of excitement but to candidly gloss over the great tumultuous adventures we experienced in our 'mother ship' would be to- put it simply- ridiculous. This vehicle was like no other. From what I can recall, our father purchased it used, or more so was given the car as a compensation of sorts from one of the people who were indebted to him. She grew old with us and just as a loving mother is to her child she constantly shared her wisdom, even when they aren't to keen on receiving it  . 

The first time I laid eyes on our 'beauty' was in front of my grandparent's home. The evening we met her, she looked marvelous and sparkly . The windows had been sealed shut and cleaned to perfection, the shiny new paint job she had just incurred made her look just like new- if she had gone down the runway that night she would have definitely stolen the show. My siblings and I were super excited. 

So our adventures began.  Quickly after we were acquainted  with our beautiful 'new' vehicle, we heard news of her past.  She was recently involved a catastrophic accident,( yep, just like the movies) where she almost lost her life. But gratefully the doctors/mechanics had fixed her up and she was just like new or so we thought. First lesson I learned from our mother-ship: looks can be deceiving.

Shortly after our relationship had begun with our Isuzu trooper, we realized that the AC only blew out warm smoke-filled dust. Well given the J-L family weren't what  most  would describe as particularly fussy individuals we opted for the next best thing. We decided, why not just put the windows down. But they were sealed shut. The second lesson I learned from our mother-ship: The world will never cease to surprise you.

Well,we eventually got the windows down after lots of twisting, pulling and straight-up man power and the breeze that flowed through was oh soo sweet. Just as the that feeling you get right after you've taken your first bite of  heaven baked deliciousness.We were once again super proud of our mother ship. Well at least for about  5 minutes until we tried to roll them back up again realizing  that this was not an option. So yes of course that same evening as we traveled back home it poured. By the time we got home our uniforms were drenched.The third lesson I learned from our mother ship: Always be prepared 

So the following weeks we had developed a habit of keeping a couple of umbrellas in the car in case it rained and traveling with a number of towels. The umbrella served us well and protected us from the rain while in the car, while the towels kept our uniforms dry from all the rain water which had now found a home and seeped in our recently new plush seats.Yes, in years the interior sealing would also give way until we were literally left with her shell.But we thoroughly appreciated her none the less, she did transport us from one location to another for many many years- all filled with great memories that I will one day hopefully share with you-  

While our mothership's was always quick to share to a new life lesson. The final lesson I learned from her: was to know when to say goodbye...