Volvo. A love story

When I was a young boy I loved my car. Because it reminded me of my dad. It was a Volvo 340. It was a reddish purple color,four door small saloon that had it's first night layover traveling from Rotterdam to Koper in Dachau. By mistake of my father and his friend. In 1986. Two newly made captains. That didn't know how to read a map. 

It was loaded with everything possible for me to be born in. It was packed by the Rotterdam's Port warehouse workers as a gift to my dad for my soon coming birth. 

Little did they know that the car they packed would make an impact on a person they only heard of.

It had a 4 speed manual gearshift. Rear wheel drive. No air-conditioning. 2 seatbelts. 1.4l petrol engine with cca 75 bhp. The engine was japanese. I think Isuzu made it. I didn't know until recently but I apparently had my first car accident in it. It lasted until 1996. At least with us. I cried the day my dad told me he's selling it. I was unconsolable for it leaving us. 

It is the reason why I am writing this story. Because I never gave it a name.

My dad took me to a car show in Belgrade in the late nineties and I saw xc70. All of my friends were fascinated by Ferraris, Porsches, Lamborghinis. I was fascinated by the first generation of xc70.

3 years ago my son was born. And Volvo is a part of my family. My son calls him Jagoš. We go together to feed Jagoš. We take care of him because he plays my son's favorite song whenever he wants. It's Made of by Viola Martinsson if anyone wants to listen to it. My son knows every button in it. He loves the power of it and how warm it is in the winter. And when we lie down to have a sleep he says good night to Jagoš. 

One day when I am gone I hope I will be remembered as by my son as I remember my dad. 

If for nothing else, for choosing a car that took care of my family above his image.

child soldiers

I saw a video today. I remembered the day you were born. The smell of the top of your head. First touch. I remembered your first step. First time you said Oče. Our first fight and our first peace. 

How proud I am of your first song you sang to me. Of how proud you were when you assembled a broken pen. 

Of the day you called me to tell me you assembled a gun for the first time. 

A dron was high above a trench. Slowly positioning itself. With a small cross at the center of the frame. Dropped a grenade almost as it was a toy. Exploding by your legs. I saw you reaching out for your gun. Aim it in your mouth. 

And the blood that rushed out. 

From the top of your head.

star dust

Universe is really old. Many,many lifetimes have passed since it all started. In all of that time,all the stars in the sky,all the planets,moons,comets and asteroids,all of them were created and destroyed countless times. Over and over. And in all of that destruction and creation,every single tiniest bit of you and me was created. In the hearts of stars. It took so much time for all of those bits of you to come together so you can be. So you can have this chance to live. And your life is short if you compare it to the life of planets,stars and the universe. 

But, this is what makes it important.

Every joy. Every sadness,every tear,smile,anger, disappointment, girl,boy,every memory you make,all of it happens in this small frame of time you get to spend. All of it is created by stardust you are. You are so unique and beautiful that every ancestor,from the very first life came to be, until me and your mom,have done everything we can to make sure we survive so that you exist. World is hard. It's not evil or good. It just is. It doesn't care about our feelings. You make them meaningful.

Love. And know that you are loved. Because you are unique. There never was and never will be anyone like you.

You are a heart of a star. 

So shine,my #son