We hit a deer on a dark, empty road near Gorham a few weeks ago. All of us, including the giant stag, seemed to make it through okay, except our Prius, which has been doing a great deal of rattling ever since. Then last week the car temporarily died by the side of I-295, north of Portland. Aidan was in the back seat—never too far removed from the greatest hits of books that he plays in his head. The Percy Jackson Series opened up the world of Greek mythology to him last fall. Aidan read those books day and night and became sort of obsessed with the hierarchy of the Gods and their different powers and what a God could and couldn’t do to save humans. It was terrific to see Aidan so keen on reading and also slightly disconcerting when his light went on every morning before the sun came up.
But there we sat by the highway in our little car that wouldn’t start, and I kept trying the ignition button, and when the Prius finally started up again, Aidan said quietly, “It’s the Mechanical God, Mom. I knew he would look out for us.” I nodded and smiled, and then I drove the car home slowly, protected by some larger force that I hadn’t known existed until then.
Photo credit: Tony Kieffer