It's the day after Christmas and I'm just feeling the goodness of it. Yesterday was lovely, but filled with feeding family, overcooking the roast beef, and lots of dirty dishes. Today is laid back, leftovers and paper plates. There's time to breathe and that's a good thing, I'm realizing, after this week.
Monday, I got, what has to be every mother's nightmare, a phone call from a stranger on my daughter's cell phone telling me that she had been in a car accident. I hear, but don't hear, that she's alright, that an ambulance has been called, and that her car has flipped. Flipped, hospital, accident, these are the words I remember and try to forget so that I can make my feet continue to move. I rush to the hospital, about an hour away, and she is ok, she is ok, she is ok. That's what I keep repeating to myself. Just a really nasty cut on her wrist, where she tried to protect herself as the car turned over. I can barely bring myself to think about that. As a parent, you want to be there to protect your children. It is a visceral thing. I know I have to forgive myself for not being there. Part of parenting is letting go, right? I can only be thankful that people were there to take care of her, that someone up above was looking out for her, thankful that she's here, resting on the couch, eating Christmas cookies. Today I can finally breathe and feel that I am blessed. I got the best Christmas gift I could ever receive. I am deeply grateful.