What could have been.
Today two of our children and their childcare provider (CCP) were in a very serious car accident. They are all fine.
Or I could begin this post like this:
Most days we live life with the illusion that death is hard to reach. We move and breath and drive and walk as though we are indistructable. Then then sometimes life slaps us in the face and reminds us that this gift of life is held together with a lot of luck.
Or I could begin a post like this:
Today a metaphorical tornado blew by our house. The house has some shingles missing and a couple of strips of paint missing but all is well. Realizing a tornado could hit our house is terrifying.
or I could begin a post like this:
Today in the most raw and terrifying way I realized that it is not my own death that pulls the breath out of my lungs causing me to choke with grief. It is the death of my children. They are alive. Blessed be they are alive. But I am blessed to have my breath stolen from me only to have it given back.
or I could begin like this:
On New Years Eve our kids stood under balloons full of glitter every half hour. What horrible fortune that days later we would be trying to determine what is glass from your car windshield and what is glitter.
How would I end this post though? How oh how? Tonight I find myself standing on a beach of emotion. It washes over me. My lip shutters, my eyes dampen, my cheeks are chapped from tears. And then it washes out and I pick up shoes, and tell children to pack their snack for school and it is all so very normal.
So all of us parents: May we all be fortunate enough to outlive them.
Most days we live life with the illusion that death is hard to reach. We move and breath and drive and walk as though we are indistructable. Then then sometimes life slaps us in the face and reminds us that this gift of life is held together with a lot of luck.
Or I could begin a post like this:
Today a metaphorical tornado blew by our house. The house has some shingles missing and a couple of strips of paint missing but all is well. Realizing a tornado could hit our house is terrifying.
or I could begin a post like this:
Today in the most raw and terrifying way I realized that it is not my own death that pulls the breath out of my lungs causing me to choke with grief. It is the death of my children. They are alive. Blessed be they are alive. But I am blessed to have my breath stolen from me only to have it given back.
or I could begin like this:
On New Years Eve our kids stood under balloons full of glitter every half hour. What horrible fortune that days later we would be trying to determine what is glass from your car windshield and what is glitter.
How would I end this post though? How oh how? Tonight I find myself standing on a beach of emotion. It washes over me. My lip shutters, my eyes dampen, my cheeks are chapped from tears. And then it washes out and I pick up shoes, and tell children to pack their snack for school and it is all so very normal.
So all of us parents: May we all be fortunate enough to outlive them.
These pictures make my stomach hurt. How is Junia doing processing all this? Love the Doll-O'Mahoney 5.
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