New Beginnings

I'm finding it a little difficult to start. Lots of drafts. Nothing concrete. Its hard to know quite where to begin. At the beginning? I was born. My story or stories began. Some good, some bad. Many forgotten, some waiting to be shared. Well, that's that out of the way. Maybe now we can jump to the middle. I'll fill in the gaps along the way...

Today. Today I've been visiting friends. Old friends. Good friends. The sort you don't really need to explain anything to. Even if you haven't seen them for a year. You just pick up where you left off and they understand. We were catching up. Touching base. What used to be daily or at least several-times-a-week fill you in on every detail has been diluted by time and real life. But the ties remain. These are the people you turn to when things turn sour. And they have been. For me. Recently. But I don't really want to dwell on whats gone wrong. Not right at this moment anyway. Today I've been thinking about the things that pull people together, the things that make bonds strong.

A week ago my husband was driving myself and my children to a party when we arrived at the scene of a major motorway accident just moments after the crash. I have a little first aid knowledge. Not vast amounts, but some. Without really thinking of the consequences I jumped out of the car to see what I could do to help. I did what I could (not enough) and some time later returned to my car. The emergency services were yet to arrive but my husband was concerned that the position of the car in the middle of the road was a little precarious and felt it was time to move on, so we left. One car out of the several involved was particularly badly affected. Back, front, left, right. It was completely destroyed. It appeared unthinkable that anyone could possibly have survived. As I tended to a man on the side of the road, my husband had watched a young child being pulled from the wreckage. Distraught, but apparently not too badly hurt.

I don't really believe in god. I don't really know what I believe in. I believe in something intangible, I can't really define what it is. If anything I would describe myself as a "militant agnostic" as in - I don't know, but you don't either...I think that faith and beliefs can be a good thing, but in general am fairly anti-religion. In contrast my husband is very religious. Catholic with strongly held beliefs. A regular church-goer. A believer. As is my 7-year-old daughter. I don't pray. It doesn't fit with my unformulated beliefs. Who am I praying to? I send good vibes out when required into the ether, but it can feel a little uncertain, somewhat hit or miss. I hedge my bets. The things that seem most important to me I get my daughter to pray for. Who better than a child who is unwavering and dedicated in her beliefs? If there is a god surely he is more likely to listen to her than to me. Kind of like if there really was a Santa Claus he would be most certain to give presents to the child who had been kind and good the whole year round. One who truely believed with all their heart. Or Pratchets "small gods" - who grow stronger with each believer and are most likely to reward those who give them their strength.

I tell her to pray. Pray that the boy we see screaming at the roadside still has a parent. Pray that at least one of them wasn't in the car. That somehow, miraculously someone else survived. She says she's already said three prayers. But she'll say some more.

We drive on. Each of us more deeply affected than we are able to express. Its touched a chord. Several chords. We we so close. It could have been us. There are other parallels. The child was mixed race, like my own children. It feels like a wake-up call. Look what you have. Look how fragile life is. Enjoy every day. Appreciate each other. Take pleasure in what's good. Don't dwell on what's bad.

I follow the outcome of the crash on the news. Both of his parents were in the car, seriously injured but somehow they survived. His two-year old sister died at the scene. Its not the best outcome. Its not the worst.

We continue to think of this nameless family that we don't know. My husband and daugher pray for them. I send out my positive thoughts. All of us are haunted by what we saw. By how close we came. But it's pulled us together. United us in our sadness for a broken family and gratitude that it wasn't us. And its made us closer, because we realise that our bad stuff really isn't so bad after all.