Last Monday morning...

Last Monday morning was wet and cold for the first week in August. It was raining lightly and felt more like October. I drove Oscar to daycare, a beautiful curvy drive through the country that I cherish. I'm a country girl. Those roads are my morning meditation. The last stretch of my route is on Highway 14 South, an old two lane highway that curves its way through farmland, a busy commuter route; speeding cars, semi trucks, huge farm tractors. It's not unusual to come across a crash, part of the highway closed, re-routed. I get to work at the cafe on those mornings and there is chatter about the wreck on 14 and we all shake our heads...I was so close...just seconds away, it could have been me.

It happens in a flash. Those who have experienced it know this. How it happens so fast and yet while its happening, time practically stops. Time is very clearly an illusion. I was just coming around a curve and I hit the gravel on the side of the road just a little. The next thing I know I'm spinning like I'm on ice. I don't know how many circles I did over the road. Apparently I hit a small pole before sliding into and turning around in a deep ditch across the street from what looked like an abandoned body shop. My car was facing the wrong way. In that moment, when I'm spinning I just remember being very aware of the time and very simply thinking this is happening. Here we go. And then my car stopped and I shut it off and I sat there. I gathered the contents of my purse that landed in the backseat. I grabbed my umbrella and hiked up to stand under the awning of the old building to try and stay dry.

An old man came out of the shop. He was small, wore a baseball cap, an old flannel and some amazing leather boots that are probably older than me. I thought the place was empty, so his presence surprised me. He asked if I was okay. I think he tried talking to me, but he couldn't hear and I was pretty speechless. Everything about him reminded me of my dad, if my dad had lived to be in his late 70's. 

When something like that happens we always think it could have been worse. It's true. It could have been so much worse. For those few seconds, during rush hour on a rainy Monday morning, there were no cars in front or in back of me. And, of course, Oscar was safely at daycare. The only thing that got lost in this was my car. I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine. 

I live in an amazing community. I was quickly embraced by those that love me and I'm still feeling that embrace. We take care of each other and that's a beautiful thing. My small crash was nothing compared to others stories I've heard. But it doesn't leave you any less shaken. What if that, what if this.

Those moments when we feel stripped down, the raw sweetness of life is exposed in all its messy metaphors and poetry. We are quickly reminded of how amazing this life is. The heart beat. The embrace. We reach out for help and we reach out to let others know we are okay.

Right now it’s Saturday night and Oscar is away with his daddy on a camping trip. I’m home, drinking a glass of wine, writing, listening to the sounds of the birds, dogs and kids on my street. The sun is beginning to set behind the houses. The ice cream truck drives through the neighborhood.