Earlier this week, I was going to write about the baby
cardinals we’d been watching over the past few weeks. I had taken notes about
things I’d like to tell you. How the mama sat on those eggs and didn’t move for
what seemed like weeks. How the babies were born and were bright red at birth
(seriously, cardinal red) but then quickly turned a brown color as they grew. I
was going to tell you about Steve finding the nest as he was doing yard work
and how he ran to tell me about it and we laughed that cardinals would choose
our yard to make their nest. It
was as if they knew how much I love these birds, and how if I believed in the
whole “spirit animal” thing, mine would be the cardinal. I was going to tell
you about watching the mom and the dad care for the babies – the dad was just
as involved and there is as whole community of cardinals in our area, I
suppose, as there were many, many others watching the three babies as they
learned to fly. I was going to write about how I watched a cardinal go through
all the things I’ve gone through as a mom: pregnancy, birth, feeding and caring
for my girls, teaching them to fly (metaphorically, you know) only, she did in
a matter of weeks what it will take us humans a lifetime to accomplish. I was
going to tell you all of those things. But then Thursday night happened and I
might have died.
I am being overly dramatic, to be sure, but I have to tell
you how close it could have been. I was in a car wreck, and all things
considered I am fine. We all walked away and the worst thing that happened to
me are a few amazingly purple bruises, a car that needs some fixing, and the
part about the responsible driver not having insurance. Here’s the thing: if
that woman had blown through the red light (at a high rate of speed no less)
any later? I would have been hit directly on the driver’s side. Had she come
through a few moments later still?
I may have hit her directly and she or her 8-year-old daughter may have
been very seriously injured. I have replayed the wreck over and over in my head
and all the other scenarios are much worse. My children weren’t in the car,
thank goodness. I hit her back
bumper and all of our airbags deployed. Our cars did what they were supposed to
do to keep us safe. If the worst part of this is paying our insurance deductible
because this woman was driving a brand new car without insurance? I suppose
it’s not really that big of a deal, all things considered.
What I can’t stop thinking about, though, is that I have to
have someone looking out for me. You guys, these past few weeks have been
pretty fucking awful, there is no better way to say that. My stove caught fire
(no one was hurt) a tree fell on our house. Let me repeat that last one: a tree
fell. On our house. No one was hurt, though Steve might argue that his grill
was flattened. A woman blew through a red light at a high rate of speed and I never
saw her coming. No one was hurt. Someone was looking out for me. Someone has
looked out for me quite a bit in the past few weeks.
I don’t know. What I do know is that rather than thinking
about how bad things could have been, I need to start counting the blessings I
do have. A lovely woman and her husband stopped to help me after the accident.
They had been behind me in their car and were nice enough to stop, wait for the
police and give a statement. She bought me a bottle of water and stood with us
while we waited. There are not enough people in this world kind enough to do
what she did that night. Before she left, she said to me, “you are really
blessed.” Her words have stuck with me these past few days. I believe she is
right. How can I possibly believe otherwise after all that has transpired these
past few weeks?
I will sound utterly insane when I write this, but since my
grandparents died we have all seen more cardinals. My grandfather loved birds
and my cousins and I have all agreed that we see them in random (sometimes
downright weird) places since his death. My friends will tell you I can spot a
cardinal anywhere, but they do tend to always be around me. I’m more apt to
think that there are now more cardinals in this world (thanks to that hard
working mama who sat outside my window for weeks) so that I am better looked
after. So that when I catch
glimpses of red or when I hear their pretty song, I can be reminded of my
blessings.
You don't ever sound crazy. You just sound real. And I love you for that. I hope the second half of your month has been more smooth. Miss you, friend.
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