We have cliches for a reason. Certain experiences are just endemic to the human condition; sooner or later, qua human, we all experience them. When ol’ Homes wrote the Iliad and the Odyssey, he wasn’t the first person to point out that war sucks and it’s good to come home: those are things we’ve never not known. He just said it better than anyone else. Great literature doesn’t tell us new truths—it revivifies ancient ones.
Head-on collision the other day. Thank God Almighty, Sonya's fine. Totally fine. The other car came all the way across our lane—cops said we can't tell you much, but the other driver seems to have been high—and smashed into the right-hand side of us. Our little girl was buckled in the back behind the driver's seat, so apart from a momentary scare, she's already moved on. Ellie's got a broken sternum. I'm physically fine (my guardian angel seems to have a real talent for car crashes, I keep walking away from them), but I'm more shaken up than I'm thrilled to admit. Jumping at noises a lot; lots of knots in the belly. Not quite the action hero calmly walking away from explosions in slow motion. Not yet.
Anyway, the cliches. As soon as our poor totaled car stopped spinning, I was out the door and clawing at Sonya's door handle. I think I can unequivocally file that under "worst single moment of my life to date." She's so, so lively—never not moving, never not kicking, barely still even when she's asleep; the idea of her lying motionless still makes me want to curl up in a ball. But she was okay. Crying a bit, from the shock; but as soon as I took her out and snuggled her up, she calmed right down. Tiny little scratch on one cheek, already faded by now. I think, I hope, that I appreciated her before. But now? Dear Lord Jesus, I love her so much, so much, so much. I've talked already, I think, about how having our girl has excavated our souls and given us greater capacity for love: this car crash did the same, and I think we now love her even more. But God, it hurts, that excavating. There's no anaesthetic, I guess, when they're bulldozing down through the floor of your immortality. But yeah, the old saying's true: you almost lose what you've got, you suddenly treasure it again.
Advent's always been a momentous time for me and Ellie. We fell in love during Advent. Almost split up during Advent, when I couldn't find work. Got married in Advent. Went to New York during Advent to deal with our fertility issues. And last year, during Advent, we bought the house where Sonya was born, mere weeks before Sonya was born. This year we're shaking off a car crash and trying to take care of our girl. Thank God for our family and friends, who keep coming around to help us. I think we would have starved to death by now. And thank God for God, Who keeps on patiently bashing us over the head with reminders that He's here to take care of us, over and over again.
I don't seem to have any profound observation to make about the state of the world right now. Just wanted to take a moment to say merry Christmas from the Toners, and thanks for all your prayers. We love you guys, forever and ever and ever.
