Reluctant Remembering...

Tomorrow is August 11.

To most, it isn't really a big deal -- summer is in full swing, but there's a touch of autumn in the air. Just a touch, in the evenings, when the breeze comes in and the summer sun has set. It is the last weeks of freedom before school (or work) starts up again for those who have tied ourselves inexorably to education for the short or long term. It is the dog days of August....full of sun and surf, heat and happiness, blue skies and beautiful evenings.

For me, though, August 11 has another side to it. A dark and hazy side that I can't remember and yet can never forget. It is, in many ways, my own personal 9/11. Oh, no one died, but my life changed forever on that day and I cannot help but wonder at how life unfolds itself into the path it follows.

It was on August 11 -- at 6:38 in the evening -- that everything changed. Before that I was just another insecure graduate student trying to figure out how to get through school and life without ending up alone or jobless when the time came to pay up. I was home on summer break, working for my dad, and spending time with my recently married sister, my brother, and my folks. One way I was not typical, however, is that I had just gotten my license that June. I hadn't needed it before -- working with dad and my brother and going to college where there was no point to having a car.

So, a newly licensed graduate student driving her gently used, hers-for-only-ten-days car into the village to hang out with her brother. We would watch movies and play games much like we always did. I had a 6-pack of Mountain Dew on the passenger seat and a huge plant in the back seat. I don't remember why, other than it was going in my brother's place. Three quarters of a mile from home, I came on the same four way stop that I always came to when I drove that direction, which was 90% of the time. Sometimes I went straight, sometimes I turned. Both routes took about the same time and I honestly am not sure which one I was going to take that evening.

All I know is that I can't remember anything. Except for maybe one thing -- the deep metal groaning sound as they took the roof off my car some 45 minutes later. And even that I can't be sure of. I learned later what had happened and most of you know -- a drunk lawyer with a suspended license driving his wife's car slammed into my car at a right angle. He hadn't even slowed down for the stop sign and when my car came to a rest it was 20 feet away and in a ditch. The passenger side of my Ford Tempo was unmarked. The driver's side was mauled and dented and crushed. Any harder, it would have flipped and likely broken my spine. If my window had been closed, my head would have hit it.

But, none of those things happened and I carried on. I have carried on for fifteen years, now.

Fifteen years.

For fifteen years I've dealt with it and done the best I could. I had PT for awhile, I went to a chiropractor for awhile (she told me I had chronic whiplash and twisted hips), I take pain medication only when I can't stand it anymore, and I take hot baths and showers often.

Most of the people I spend any time around know about the accident, and they may not realize that I'm loathe to bring it up most of the time. It's just that it's such a part of my life and I often feel the need to explain why I move around a lot, why I sometimes limp, why I lose my bubbly nature here and there, why doing anything for any length of time is hard. I'm just in pain and tired. The recent breast reduction surgery was a direct result of this chronic pain. I've always been a little heavy up top, but I don't know as I would ever have done anything about it without the suggestion and support of my husband and the excellent insurance through work. It has helped. I still feel pain regularly, but it comes slower now (though feels more strong, but I may just be adjusting).

But, on August 11, I will still be remembering how my life changed. Over the years I've gotten angry and sad alternately at various times, but on this date, every year, I just get a little sad. I remember that I don't remember what it was like to not have pain. I remember being good at limbo. I remember carrying my sister around. I remember my first car. I am not depressed, by any means. I have so much in my life to be thankful for -- wonderfully vibrant friends, a loving and supportive family that is together in more ways than one, a beautiful home that I love filled with furry children who make me laugh. I have a great job, overall good health, good prospects. I have a wonderful husband who is always supportive. I live in a beautiful area that has so many fun things to do in it. And it just keeps getting better -- for even in the last six months, I have come to find close friends at work that have filled a void I didn't realize I had. In short, I love my life.

Just...forgive me a little sadness for what might have been if I had been left physically whole. If someone hadn't violently changed the course of my life through carelessness and addiction. If I could have moved on differently in that one tiny way. If, somehow, I could still limbo.

Just give me that moment and then, like a summer storm, the clouds will pass and the sun will shine again.

-T