Roses, wrecks and New Year’s blessings

Rose et amour....rosa y amor ....rose d'amour ...

Rose et amour….rosa y amor ….rose d’amour ..rosa de amor.. // Explore (Photo credit: photosylvia / silabox.)

It was the first day of Anna’s fifth week in intensive care. When the car flipped over and down the embankment she had emerged with a broken sternum, broken ribs on either side, a cracked femur and internal injuries; internal bleeding has been a problem since. I got this report from her husband Ned, in a phone conversation linking our homes on opposite coasts. Ned had been driving when he suffered a sneezing fit and blacked out; Anna had tried to grab the steering wheel and possibly prevented something worse from happening. The accident left him without a scratch — other than a broken heart.

Ned and I go wayy back: to the time he brought me a corsage of roses from his family farm on the occasion of my second grade piano recital. So I am sad for Anna, but in some ways sadder for Ned. He is a retired corporate executive, a take-charge type, and an incurable optimist; this may be putting a strain on his famous ebullience.

“I’m there every day,” he told me. “I give her my three rules of life: Never give up. Don’t you dare give up. And, Don’t even think about giving up.” Anna, I’m willing to bet, thinks a lot about giving up. I didn’t suggest that to Ned.

I was writing a note to Ned, following up on that conversation, when the phone rang. My youngest daughter, reporting on her holidays on the east coast, said — as a sort of throw-away aside — that there had been “an incident” the night before at the end of her 3-hour trip from North Carolina to Atlanta to visit with family. At the Claremont Avenue off-ramp from I-85 in Atlanta (a familiar piece of real estate now etched into my brain) her Toyota truck had flipped, coming to rest on its side just before crashing into the pylons below. Airbags inflated, emergency helpers immediately appeared to get her out the window and she sustained only a bruised shin. Flo, the elderly part-labrador retriever, was also lifted out unscathed, but Apple the more recent rescue dog took off for parts unknown.

“They kept wanting to take me to the ER. I said, ‘Thanks, but I’m an ER nurse, and I’m calling my brother.'” Later in the holidays she planned to visit the totaled Toyota to see if an explanation — front tire issues are suspected — for the accident might be found.

There’s no particular connection between these two accidents, and no particular reason for such a Christmastime story. Unless it would be an excuse for quoting these words from my friend Anne Lamott’s new book, Help, Thanks, Wow: The Three Essential prayers:

“We are saved by memories of love and beauty — maybe there’s more of that to come, if we keep on keeping on…”

Happy New Year!  And if you see Apple the dog, let us know.

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