I felt heaviness in my chest as the beeping alarm clock chiseled at my eyes. I slowly sat up in bed, arms achy and weak, assessing the level of my misery. Yes, indeed. My cold had taken a turn for the worse, and I was hesitant to get out of bed and face the day. But it was a work day. A deadline day. And I had kids to get up and ready for school.

I pulled on a pink trench coat and slipped my bare feet into a pair of flip flops as I rushed out the door, racing the clock to ensure the kids arrived to school on time. The car radio played quietly as London, my 11-year old, shared the nicknames she and her friends had come up with for one another. There was a Princess Unicorn, a Pretty Kitty, a Rainbow Butterfly and a Demon Girl. “Whoa, who is the demon girl?” I asked right as I noticed the glaring gas light blinking away in panic mode. “Oh no . . . this is not good.”

“It’s just a joke, Mom. I didn’t want some frilly nickname. I’m not really a demon,” she said.

“No, we are almost out of gas and . . . wait, you are the demon girl?”

I had forgotten my purse. And had cleaned out my change reservoirs after a series of downtown meetings earlier in the week. I played it out in my head: I would most definitely run out of gas and be stuck on some side street for an hour as I waited for roadside assistance to rescue me, disheveled hair and all. I didn’t have time for that. I was already behind in my day and needed to get back home to pull myself together, and then get to the office in less than 30 minutes. “Start gathering any change you can find for me, please.” I asked London. Fifty dirty pennies and one dime was going to have to do.

“Mom, no way. You can’t go in public like this. And you cannot pay with dirty pennies,” London said. I assured her I was horrified at the thought, too, as I dropped her off at school and wished her a good day. “Promise me you won’t do it, Mom.”

I drove up to the gas pump, put the car in park, and turned off the engine. I pulled all of the air in the car into my lungs and pushed it back out again as I coached myself to “just do it.” One quick check of my reflection in the review mirror, and an equally quick smoothing of my hair with my fingers, and in I went.

The woman behind the counter smiled as I approached. “I’ve had a crazy morning,” I said as my shame meter rose. “I’m on fumes and I managed to scrounge up sixty cents for gas. Pathetic, I know.”

“Oh, you are just fine,” she said. She pulled out a five dollar bill from her pocket and put it in the register with my fifty dirty pennies and dime. “You can put in $5.60.” I stared into her eyes as her expression absorbed my shame.

“You are too kind,” I said. “A lifesaver.”

I walked to my car as tears welled in my eyes. Not from shame. Or embarrassment. My emotions welled up as gratitude washed over me. I have been a fan of Spokane for as long as I can remember. I tend to focus on the golden nuggets of our city, the good of the people. But I do occasionally realize my experience isn’t everyone’s experience. There are community members who struggle in ways I do not. There are people who battle shame within themselves on a daily basis and I spilled right over thinking of how amazing a community we live in to know people like Charlene at the Cenex on Division and Augusta exist who accept people as they blow in and out of her day in all different presentations of humanity, and treat them with equal respect, dignity and care.

I returned a short while later, as my preferred public persona, showered and pulled together, with a five dollar bill and a bouquet of flowers. She didn’t recognize me at first glance, which made me smile. Surprised, she said I made her week. “This is how you make people feel every day, all day long. And I’m proud to live in a city with humans like you,” I shared.

I am honored to announce I am following Spokane CDA Woman and Prime Magazine, as we roll them into an enhanced Spokane CDA Living, as editor-in-chief. This is bittersweet for me. I adore my sister editor, Blythe Thimsen, and I wish her well as she transitions to new opportunities. I have big shoes to fill, and I look forward to continuing to create a city magazine we can all be proud of, one that rivals the best across the nation.

I have come to believe that Spokane is my city. And I want you to feel that way, too. I want readers to be swept up in the resurgent energy of growth, activity and opportunity. Embrace this city with me, honor her by becoming a champion for her and our fellow residents . . . be the change you want to see. I look forward to this new phase with you. And remember, no matter where we go, what we do, and who we choose to share life with, we are Spokane Coeur d’Alene Living, and we are Spokane.

Thank you for your loyalty; it has been, and will continue to be, my honor to carry on as your editor. Please find me on Facebook to stay connected between press dates, and share your thoughts, ideas and stories in real time.

My best,

Stephanie Regalado

[email protected]