This morning we awoke to a pop and the sound of our beloved fan, the one we turn on each night for its pleasing hum, spinning down.

Full disclosure: That pleasing hum is a side benefit of our fan’s original purpose of masking, if only slightly, the dulcet sounds of JoHn’s snoring purring as well as the mitigating of any possible mental-pause sweating blushing that I might experience, if I experienced that sort of thing.

Anyway, the power had gone out.

JoHn made the brave and daring decision to go out to the general store for coffee, taking his guard dogs with him just in case. I was particularly taken with Marshal Dillon Dingle’s enthusiasm for the job. A ride in the ‘magic box’ first thing in the morning almost proved too much for the little guy.

While JoHn was gone, I wandered around the quiet house… appreciating the light across the old floors and fabrics… sitting in one of my favorite spots, looking across the room and through the windows to the water beyond.

A beautiful, quiet morning… spring in the warmth of the sun and scent of the air.

Once again I noted how strange and mysterious life’s mix is.

It’s been a whip-lashy couple of days, which I recounted this morning in flashes…

Mac and Jack finalizing their wedding list…

Me having a ball tweaking invitation wordings and designs.

Fun editing photos of the Disposable Shack, now on the market quietly and needing to put its best foot forward…

Writing the story of that house for the realtor. The memories she would never care about being unearthed and sending JoHn and I into fits of laughter at the kitchen counter (we didn’t include those stories in what we sent her).

A text from Sam to JoHn on Sunday morning. A photo of the front of a car, all smashed in. John being pissed, shouting “Oh my GAWD!” and a call from Sam immediately after. Me laughing. I knew. It was April 1st. Sam never misses it.

JoHn laughing. Threatening to kill him.

Quiet day.

Call that night. JoHn, “Sure. Right. Stoppit!…. Are you serious? Okay. Okay…Sam… Sam… calm down…”

That sinking feeling.

Several calls, interruptions constant. 911 called. Ambulance. Information choppy.

Sam had been in an accident. A thousand miles away.

He was going through an intersection and a driver sped in, through a red light. A massive collision, his car spun around, maybe more than once, landed on a sidewalk. The other driver’s car did the same in the opposite direction.

Every airbag went off.

Sam got out of his car, shocked. People tried to get him to move away from it.

Some part of his brain went into, what he called, ‘lifeguard mode’. He ran to the other car, couldn’t find his med kit in his. He checked vitals. Asked important questions.

He remembers needing to go back to his car for his phone.

An ambulance took the other driver and passenger away.

Sam answered the EMT’s questions, declined to go.

The policeman at the scene  was nice, professional.

Sam gave a statement.

His girlfriend and her parents came to get him.

Her Dad asked Sam if he wanted to save his side mirror, which was still on the street after they towed his totaled car away.

When he texted the pictures…

Conversations about his injuries. Minor cuts, a burn from an airbag. Stiff. Oh wait, his hands were bruised and how did I think that happened?

A long talk late that night, when he got home, needing to be alone. Did I understand.

Yes, I did.

This is a kid whose mind is melded to mine. Always has been.

Talking through the physical injuries and what to watch out for. Talking about sitting with the emotional stuff.

That’s important. Keep the big stuff separate from the small stuff. The car doesn’t matter, the hassle doesn’t matter. Stay open to how you feel, pay attention to what comes to you while you are so open… This is where we grow most.

“I get it, Mom. I get it.” 

I know you do.

And then the humor… always.

“Sam you have got to stop trying to die.”

“I know! My gun keeps jamming!”

I’m laughing now as I type.

So lucky.

So, so lucky.

And the surreal feeling of knowing how close he came, again. Tears of fear and disbelief mixed with seemingly infinite gratitude threatened and spilled… all as I sat warmed by a beam of Maine morning light.

I have heard or read or imagined more than one person using the term ‘a lot of life’ to describe the tough stuff that ebbs and flows into and out of our time on this planet…. that’s a lot of life at once… I take issue with that, I do.

Life is never just one thing, it cannot be. I have found beauty amidst crushing grief, and frowned at black spot on a nearly perfect rose… I remember writing once that we can’t pack for long journeys with a single emotion. It just doesn’t work that way. Life is my long journey. I can’t bear to have its name synonymous with only the tough stuff.

Mac and Jack are getting married here, and we are preparing for it.

Gabe’s team was celebrating some tournament wins from this past weekend.

Sam is alive.

And someday… someday…

April the Giraffe* will give birth to that baby of hers.

A strange and mysterious mix indeed.

As always, come on over to Just Ponderin’s Facebook page to comment.

*Are you watching the giraffe cam? I’ve been gah-lued to it for weeks now. Yes. Weeks. The link above takes you to it. It is both addictive and sort of meditation-y (which I’ve needed these past 48 hours, I tell you :))