I had a dream last night that I spun out on the ice again. I was back in Massachusetts, on the highway from Worcester to Shrewsbury (Hwy. 9?), and was the middle car in a caravan of three. The road was empty, except for our caravan. I'm pretty sure Bobby Flay was the driver of the first car, but that's beside the point. In my dream, my little dark blue Ford started slipping on the ice, and this time I was completely calm. I was not scared at all. I did not brake, but held the wheel straight and the car decelerated to a safe stop in the middle of the road. Bobby Flay got out of the first car and congratulated me on my driving skills. Weeeeeeird. My mind must be longing for a do-over. Let's just reverse time, go back, and do that right this time, m'kay?
It is that time again, I suppose. The time to restart, resolve, try again, solve again. Fresh beginnings, unwritten endings, and the in between of possibilities. I love me a bright, shiny New Year.
So, back to the tail spin. Last week was insane. Bonkers. Winter break gone mad. I won't belabor all the trivial nasties that happened this week. But here's the short list:
1. Anika closed Kaden's pinkie finger in a door. Five stitches.
2. Both kids had trouble breathing, resulting in plastic cage of death (i.e., chest X-ray), pneumonia, nebulizer, antibiotics all around.
3. Garage door needs to be replaced. Open the garage door before you back up. You'll thank me later for this fine piece of advice.
4. Ryan fell down the basement stairs, full box of glass ornaments in hand. He is fine. Ornaments, not so much.
5. And... I slide off the road at 45 mph and lodged my car in the ditch.
Black ice. You may have heard of it. Since my locale doesn't typically get a lot of snow, black ice is our Winter weather hazard of choice. It was the morning after Christmas, which is one of my favorite days of the year. Every year, my sister and I get up in the wee hours to hit the Christmas clearance. We even did it "together" from across the country. My list typically includes: Target, The Inkwell, Hallmark. And more recently Creative Crafts, JoAnns, and Fred Meyers. I'm straight up addicted to wrapping paper, ribbons, gift tags, and other gift adornments. I love love love the whole process of wrapping presents - selecting the right packaging, the crispness of the paper, a perfect seam, picking coordinating ribbon, signing the tag... my fingers twitch just writing about it. This addiction is perennial. I just can't quit it. So every year, I stock up on all the trimmings, wild clearance style.
Back to Christmas Morning Eve Morning... 6:45 am is our meeting time, so I'm out the door by 6:15 am. I get into my car, mosey down the gravel hill, turn left onto Oak Creek Drive. I accelerate as I come out of the turn, gathering speed, take a gentle right, and then a gentle left, cruising at about 45-50 mph, as best I can estimate. The speed limit is 50 mph, but I was still in the turns, so I don't think I could have been going much faster. On that second turn, I caught some black ice. I wasn't worried. Everyone has slipped a little on black ice - just a little slip, and then as the traction catches, you slow down thinking "Black ice! Better be careful." But this time, the traction never caught. I just continued to slip. In my panic, I did all the things you shouldn't do when you get iced - I turned the wheel sharply in the wrong direction and braked hard. The car continued to turn in a circle to the left, the whole time slipping down the road at 45+ mph. I do remember yelling "No. No. NO. NO! NO! NO!! NO!! NO!! NO!!" over and over and over again, all the while thinking "Holy shit, I possibly could die right now, or at least be seriously injured." My thoughts went from "It's okay, just a patch" to "I'm might die" in milliseconds. After what seemed like a really, really long time of sliding down the road backwards, I finally heard the horrifying sound of metal scraping, as my car's undercarriage met the asphalt edge of the road and ultimately lodged itself down the steep ditch on the opposite side of the road. Along the way, I also grazed a telephone pole down the right side and took out a road sign. The right side of the car was completely pressed up against the side of the embankment. The left side was at so high of an angle, it was very hard to get out alone. I must have either closed my eyes while the car was spinning, or else my mind just decided vision was the least important variable, because I have no recollection of actually seeing anything until the car had stopped moving.
Looking back, I think the speed was the most terrifying factor. I was moving so quickly in this huge piece of metal that I had no control over. Driving a car is all about these small deliberate movements - a press of your foot, a turn of your wrist. In most accidents, you are manipulating the situation, at least slightly. You slam on your brakes too late, turn into another vehicle in your blind spot... But to go from complete control to none whatsoever, was shocking.
After sliding into the ditch, I sat in the car for quite a while, just finding my land legs again. My first thought was "Oh my god, I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay. I'm okay." My next thought was "There's no way I'm driving the car out of this ditch." My next thought was "DAMN IT, I can't go shopping!" No, really.
I wasn't sure if I should turn off the car, but then decided I would, just in case it might explode. To clarify and defend this thought, a few months ago, two drunk exchange students crashed into a telephone pole a few streets from our house, and the car ignited in flames and they both died in the car. Of course, this popped into my head - so I turned off the car, shakily got out my insurance card, and called for roadside assistance. I sat in the cold, waiting. One car after another stopped to see if I was okay - so many, in fact, that I started ducking down so people didn't see me sitting in it. Once Ryan arrived and helped me out of the car, the first thing I noticed was a thick mist/fog in the headlights. It was everywhere. And the road was a sheet of ice - there were no clean spots that I could find in my short search. The tow truck guy finally came and unstuck the car - it came out with an ear-splitting scrape on the pavement edge. We all went home, feeling blessed, however unfortunately so.
Redos aren't always possible. But time is an excellent teacher. And I've been careful on the roads during the cool mornings since. I may not be able to erase my accident, but I surely can learn from it.
As for my resolutions, I just have a few:
Be active. Because I can.
Be still. Let the periphery go on without me for a while.
Consume less.See aforementioned shopping addiction.
Produce more. Write. Build. Bake. Grow. Get my hands dirty. Tell a story.
Create. Recreate. Create anew.
Happy New Year!
