There are times in life when you sit back and really think hard about things. Births, deaths, anniversaries; all of these are the occasions most of us take advantage of to take stock of our lives and decide where things will go; this is usually preceeded by a lengthy session of reminiscing about the way things have been.
There are other times when there's no time to daydream; times when you have less than a moment to think about an entire lifetime. Today was one of those days.
It started innocently enough, with what was supposed to be a half-hour drive to pick up my my niece. The day was overcast and cold, but no foul weather was to be seen. The kids were strapped in their carseats happy as could be, and Kelly and I were driving and talking about a little of this and a little of that. The biggest concern of the day was the fact that our CD player had mysteriously stopped working and I was a little upset that I couldn't pop in a Christmas CD.
I randomly decided to change course mid-trip to take a back road which was a little more scenic, and would take us through a small little country town. Passing through the town itself in about a minute, we exited the other side blissfully unaware of what was about to happen.
Another thirty seconds and we were on an overpass above a major highway. Ahead on the right was a white Chevy Silverado pickup waiting to cross the road we were on after exiting the highway below. I saw him and took note of him, but he appeared to be looking in our direction, so I assumed he saw us. He didn't.
Just as we reached that point where I 'knew' he wouldn't try to cross in front of us, he did. Slowly. The thought that overpowered my brain was simply 'I am not seeing this. He can't be that stupid.'
I slammed my foot down on the brake pedal and tried to turn the wheel to swing around the end of his truck, but my brakes had locked hard. He must have seen us approaching and in a panic, slowed down even more. Either that or time itself stood still for a moment.
Everything turned glowing white. Then there was the noise. The thunderous 'whooooomp' and the bone-jarring jolt hit simultaneously. Seconds passed and time remained still. The white glow subsided and I was again aware that I was behind the wheel. It took another few seconds to begin to realize that I needed to move. I forced open the driver's door and freed myself from the seatbelt as fast as I could. Kelly did the same and we each grabbed one of the children and got away from the car.
We sat down in the median strip and checked everyone. My daughter bit her lip but that was the only blood drawn by the whole affair. My son was screaming at the other driver that he broke our car. Kelly was the worst off with a pretty good seatbelt bruise, a mild sprain in her neck and some chest pain.
Within moments, people were stopping to make sure we were alright. The other driver got out and stood there like a moron staring into space.
It had to have taken less than two minutes for a car to stop with an off-duty sheriff's deputy who made all the requisite calls for help.
To make a long story short, we spent the entire day in the hospital and are out of a car. My parents are loaning us one of theirs, but we're back in the market. This one lasted 11 months. Of course, I don't know for a fact that it's totalled, but looking at it, I'm pretty sure I've driven the last mile.
At least now I can postpone taking it for an oil change.
All kidding aside, we're all sore and shaken, mad and distraught, but that's not what matters. I was sitting here thinking about it all again and it occurred to me that we're all alive and relatively unhurt. All those horrid accidents you hear about on the news with people getting killed and we beat those odds today. We made it. I'm looking at it as a second chance. A chance to make sure I really stop taking things for granted. Simple things, like living.
