Every day

I apologize in advance for all the touchy, feely, philosophical posts as of late, but today I'm only going to add to them.  Today is weighing heavily on my heart.

As I travelled to work this morning, I was late.  Eloic had been up throwing up all night, and although I was sleeping in the bedroom and Reno was up with him, I didn't sleep well.  I hit the snooze 2 or 3 or 4 times - I don't really remember - until finally, I begrudgingly got off my sorry butt and had a wake up shower.  I felt terrible leaving Reno with the kids since the boys were sick, but I knew I didn't have much of a choice.  I had to go to work.

Already late, I sped off to work.  Rounding the corner near Waldheim, I notice a sprayer parked on one side of the road, and a black car parked directly across from it.  There wasn't enough room to fit two vehicles between them on the highway, so seeing an oncoming truck I stopped behind the black car.  I was annoyed that I had to stop.  I didn't understand why they didn't at least stagger themselves on the highway to avoid this problem.  Why couldn't they be considerate enough?  Why did they have to slow me down on my already long commute?

Angrily, I got right back on track.  As I approached Waldheim, a fire truck sped on down hwy 312.  I briefly wondered if the fire truck was headed to the sprayer and car, but quickly brushed it off.  After all, there was no fire.  I thought nothing of the fire if there was one.  Reno was on the volunteer fire department for Laird for a couple of years.  Most of the fires were grass fires.  Most of the fires were benign.

My big concern when I got to work was to get in contact with Reno so I could find out how the boys were doing.  Finally we made contact, and what I found out shook my whole day.  That sprayer and car parked on the side of the road... those people who put such a kink in my morning commute... those people whom I was so angry with... those people were trying to save a life.

Our neighbor; a husband, father and grandfather; a leader in the church; the mayor of our village died tragically as I drove on by.  Leaving the highway, crossing oncoming traffic, crossing a ditch and field, Gordon Nesdoly crashed his vehicle into a man made dugout and died minutes before I drove on by.  Oblivious, in my own world, I drove on by.

I have about a billion questions that will never be answered.  What if I had stopped?  Could I have helped?  What if I hadn't been in such a rush?  What if I had been just 5 minutes earlier?  Truth be told, these are selfish questions.  I'm asking them to sooth my own soul.  Gord is gone.  I can't bring him back... nobody can bring him back.  The events of today would have happened regardless of whether I was there or not.  It doesn't change the way I feel though, and it's most definitely made me more appreciative of what I do have.

I drive that commute nearly every day.  I kiss my husband, tell him I love him and walk out that door almost every day.  I pass farms and fields, familiar vehicles, landscapes and roadways, with music cranked to keep me awake every day. 

Now I'm going to take my time a little more in my driving.  I'm going to spend a couple more minutes with family before heading out on the road.  I'm going to marvel at the beautiful landscapes and sunrises, and note the subtle curves and imperfections in the roadways.  I'm going to engulf myself in the silence of the morning. 

...Every day.