The Return Of The Light

I'm sitting on the couch on Solstice feeling sorry for myself, stuck inside, sick, Nick and Olive out skiing, Elias with Ms. Julia, an afternoon to myself, a rarity, but my stomach keeps me from taking advantage of this gift of time.

So I mope until John Prine's voice comes on the radio, singing Christmas in Prison, and I feel a bit ridiculous considering all that I have--I remember that this too shall pass.

My only bars come from my mind.

The phone rings.

It's Julia and, everyone's ok, but they've been in an accident, on Tudor and Lake Otis, and they're waiting for the police to arrive.

"Elias isn't hurt. None of us are. But I think you should come get him so he doesn't have to wait here in the car."

By the time I reach the scene of the accident, a police car slows traffic. Fred and Julia's truck is turned facing the wrong direction, an airbag burst open, windshield cracked, driver's side all dented, wheel off kilter.

Elias climbs out from behind the passenger's side, "That car just hit us." His lower lip protrudes and the tears begin to well.

And he's right. Stopped at a red light, they were just waiting, when the other car, unable to stop due to speed or snow or both, slammed into them from the side.

I hug Elias and Julia and we walk Elias to my car as all the folks stuck in traffic stare at us. 

I've been there, sighing about the loss of time as I wait behind a line of cars with their break lights beaming, longing to drive faster, to get somewhere, to just keep moving, annoyed by the hassle of someone else's accident.

I hold Elias's hand, as Ms. Julia carries his backpack and canes, and all I can think is: Thank god everyone is alright.

When Elias and I make it home, we sit on that same couch that trapped me earlier and talk about the accident until Elias doesn't need to talk about it anymore. We talk about the crack in the windshield and the airbag and the way the truck turned towards the trees. "It wasn't Fred's fault," Elias repeats, "We were just sitting there."

"I know. And it was scary...and unexpected."

Elias doesn't use the word scary or talk about his feelings but he will use the word unexpected to describe the accident. Expected and unexpected are words we use a lot with Elias to help him make sense of the social world.

(As if any of us can really make sense of the social world.)

I sit with my arms wrapped around Elias as he leans his head against mine and we snuggle like this for hours, Elias pulling my arm back up if I release pressure, wanting me to hold him tight, and what began as a woe-is-me kind of afternoon morphs into one of those unexpected evenings where there's just nowhere I'd rather be than stuck on the couch with this gift of a child.

And, as always, I'm thankful for the return of the light.

 

 

Comments

[Tabatha]

Thank goodness the light always, always comes back! Glad you are all safe.