“What if Heidi went blind? What would you do if she went blind?”
These questions ran through Scott’s mind one afternoon while sitting on a park bench. It surprised him, the heaviness of these questions. He had been dating me for such a short while, too short to have thoughts like this land in his head with a thud. He pondered and weighed them coming to the conclusion that he’d want to stick around, to see how I would handle it.
Weeks later he received a phone call that echoed the once seemingly random questions which then became otherworldly, planted by God.
Looking back I wonder if we were being prepared for what was coming. My right foot suddenly aching, developing a limp from running; Scott gently washing the sand off my feet as they rested on a rock at Jericho Beach days before the crash; Scott holding up the camera at the beach while I, tanned in short shorts, squirmed at my photo being taken, that photo later framed and placed bedside at the hospital; Scott and I getting serious fast; calling my friend Ang hours before the crash telling her something felt very wrong and I couldn’t put my finger on it. We were defensive about what was coming, although there was nothing we could have done. It was unseen and coming at lightning speed. We were tensing, catching our breath, and bracing for impact.
I’m writing more these days. Not everything makes it to the blog. Some things will be for ‘the book’ only. I met with some of the brilliant women I took my writing workshop with at a coffeehouse on Main St in the city on a sunny Saturday afternoon. I read a piece of writing that is going to be the very beginning to my book. A prologue, I think. But, it doesn’t matter what it is right now. I have a beginning to my book.
As I’m writing, memories find me in my car, in the shower, while I’m walking. And I am forced to see each memory from a different angle, light falling on it in a new way. I’m viewing my life from a writer’s perspective. It’s been incredible. Sometimes hard, sometimes tedious, but mostly invigorating. How will I express this thought or tackle that time? When I began I wasn’t sure where this venture would take me. Could I pull this off? Would people shake their heads in disbelief and under their breath say, who is she kidding? Maybe they are, but I don’t care. I feel alive. I am all glory-be and coming home after years of suffering with homesickness. I’m learning that when I trust my instincts the stars align. And this writing thing? It’s a hunch, a stirring I have to follow.
So, I’m reminded of the days leading to the crash and I see it, instinct. Something one might only catch in hindsight, but it’s there, palm prints of it all over everything. You could check off each experience as coincidence, but I don’t think it is. Something inside of us, outside of us crooks a finger and whispers to come a little closer, listen.
Instinct isn’t always meant for warning and danger. Shivers running up and down your spine can thrill you, joy is on its way. It can move you to the right place or get you the hell out. It serves as guide and messenger. I’m not a touchy-feely type. Don’t ask me to hold hands and stand in a circle connecting as women-kind. But, I was tired and grew tired of being tired. I’m listening and I’m no longer tired.
in my friend Lesley’s photography!
She’s officially just starting out, but she’s been toting a camera with her forever. To the park, the beach, to every Halloween, and each birthday. She’s got an eye for this, a natural. I took this collage off of her blog. (To do this collage and all of her photos justice you need to pop over to her blog. It’s better over there.) She snapped these ridiculously gorgeous photos of our kids at the park before ‘back to school’. Our kids meaning mine, hers, and Jenn’s, although a couple of Jenn’s kids are missing here. (The blonde one on the right is my girl, Annie. And my boy, Ben, is in the purple shirt.) Our kids have been playing, giggling and getting into trouble since they came crashing into the world. They’re family.