Let them be okay

Sometimes traffic slows for construction. Today, it slowed for something that reminded me how fragile everything is. Driving to swimming lessons with my daughter, traffic on Circle Drive went down to 8km/hour. There are pilons. I assume there’s work being done ahead.

I look at the clock and prep Petra for our revised timeline: “Sorry, I didn’t check Google Maps and didn’t factor a construction delay in. You’re going to be late.” She sighs like she’s being personally betrayed by the flow of traffic. “I’m doing the best I can.” I say. (I say that a lot.)

Then we see the flashing lights. Police cars. Officers on foot. Tire marks stretching across the road like long, arching shadows. And a car. Its side is crushed in, airbags deployed, a little familiar air freshener tree hanging in the stillness.

“I hope they’ll be okay,” I say aloud for Petra to hear But that sentence doesn’t convey the weight in my chest, the jolt of fear that reminds you that life can change in an instant. Let them be okay, I repeated in my mind. Let someone be holding their hand right now.

We pass the scene and traffic picks up, a new lane merges into ours. And just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. Except of course, it had.

In the rear view, I see a vehicle coming in hot. A truck is speeding, weaving through traffic, not into the 90 pace the rest of us are adhering to. I want to yell Did you not just see what we saw? She hadn’t.

And that’s just it. Sometimes we forget to give each other grace because we forget how delicate life is. How one careless moment can change everything. That truck zoomed by us and close front of yet another car, and I thought, ‘I’ll write a little note about this later and hope you’ll read it.’

As for us? We made it to the pool. Only to find out that lessons were canceled for the Easter weekend, so we drove home. Safely together.

Please take care out there, friends, of yourself and of each other.

xoMaygen