It Was A Year Ago Today
It's a house like any other rural Ohio house.
I went back there today, about half an hour away from it being a perfect year since the crash. I walked the shoulder and stood between the telephone poles and evaluated the road. It was informative. I understood more about how things happened the way they did. Then I drove back to the freeway, and as I did, I realized something: that was the last curve in the road. Had I made it through that curve, I'd have been home free. And as I stood under the clear sky on the dry road, my first thought was of that scene in Rabbit, Run where the protagonist reaches down and pulls the plug in the bathtub that drowned his daughter. He thinks that "in all His strength, He did nothing to lift it" or something similar.
Yet in my case, He did pull the plug. He permitted a car to strike me at full speed, yes, and he changed my life and the life of my passenger forever, but when I took my son out of the back seat through the shattered window I saw that he was literally haloed by broken glass, not a scratch on him, unharmed in the midst of the glass and twisted metal and splattered blood.
It would have been nice to have had today's clear road one year ago. But it could have been worse.
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I'm pleased to note that my brother has set perhaps an all-time high for reader involvement with a Sunday Story. You can read The Genesis Of Something New at TTAC today, and I recommend you give it a shot.