Tuesday, February 5, 2013

My Accident and Miracle Part 1

My Accident and Miracle

Part 1

In 2007, I was involved in a miracle.  It seems I'll never forget.  So much of it is clear like it was yesterday and yet, sometimes I feel like it was all a dream.

I still remember the taste of the homemade pasta salad that I had for lunch around noon on March 6, 2007.  I have not made that recipe since.  I also remember the chocolate chip cookie I had.  I'm sure it was a pregnancy must-have, as I was about 6 months along with my baby girl.  It's funny the things you remember.  At 1:00 p.m. I took a little nap while Little Son, who was 3 years old, rested quietly in his room.  It was a very good nap because I overslept by 5 or 10 minutes.  When I woke it was past 2:00 p.m. and it was time to go get Sweet Tween (who was not a tween then, but 5 years old) from Kindergarten.  Because I was a little behind schedule, I rushed with Little Son out the door.  I later thought what would have happened if I had left at my usual time . . . but I try not to think that way.  It's useless and doesn't change anything.

March 6, 2007 was a BEAUTIFUL spring day in the South!  No jacket was needed.  The sun was out, birds were chirping.  I decided to leave our car at the Park that was just down the street from Sweet Tween's school.  Since it was a nice day, I knew the kids would enjoy a little walk and some time at the park.  I had just enough time to get there before the school bell rang.

The school

The park where we had planned to play

As usual, I clasped Little Son's small hand with my right hand.  I always wanted him to be on the side that was furthest from the busy street.  We strolled peacefully on the sidewalk together talking about 3 year old things, like Buzz Lightyear and race cars.  As we approached the bridge that crossed over the big Otter Creek ditch, I noticed a small butterfly fluttering in the clump of trees next to the bridge. 

"Look, a butterfly.  The bugs are starting to come out," I said pointing to the trees.

That moment is that last thing I remembered . . .

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