tangled too tight and too long to fight

Last Thursday morning, I had a fight with my mom about fruit.  We were having a team breakfast for swimming, and I had completely forgotten about the fact that I had told the host that I would ask my mom if we could contribute food to the breakfast, and so when I woke up, I got an earful about being irresponsible and a bad team captain and I, trying to defend myself, made excuses for myself.  My phone wasn't working last night, I wasn't thinking about it.  Nobody reminded me to ask, so I didn't know that food was still needed.  I forgot!!!

Somehow it escalated into a screaming match -- I suppose 6:45am doesn't bring out the best in mothers or daughters.  Regardless of how we got there, we were definitely there, and it was a pretty bad feeling when I left the house with a bag of fresh clementines that we, by some miracle, had hiding in the refrigerator.  Feeling an odd combination of guilty and bitter, I drove away from the house in a bad mood.  I was pretty shaken up (I have not screamed like that at a person in a long time), but I managed to put it in the back of my mind and go on with the morning.

Sometime during first bell I got an e-mail on my phone, presumably from some random college that for some reason (though I've never before indicated interest) thought I cared about its application deadline.  But it wasn't from some random college -- it was from my mom.  In it, she apologized for yelling at me, told me she hoped it didn't ruin my day, and reminded me to always be a good leader and to remember what others ask of me and follow through with it.  I was touched, but because I was in class and I don't get good service in school and because I knew I would see her at home, I didn't reply to the e-mail.

On a typical day, my sister and I drive home from school, pack our swim bags, and go to swim practice without seeing my mom beforehand -- but I had a lot of homework, Daria had a meeting after school, and my mom had errands to run.  I didn't go to practice because I was working on a paper I had due, and I only saw my mom very briefly in the time between getting home and driving to the Y for lifting.  Because I was working on my paper, I didn't think about responding to her apology; we spoke a few words and eventually she left for her meetings.

It had been snowing for a while at that point, but the roads weren't anything to be really worried about.  I talked to her on the phone before I left, and she told me to be careful -- but I drove to the Y without any problem whatsoever.  However, I didn't realize how 45 minutes of snow and freezing rain could alter the state of the road, and when I got into my car on the slick parking lot of the YMCA with my sister and my friend, I knew something was wrong.  The car slipped and slid on the ice of the asphalt in the parking lot, and, foolishly, I assumed that the roads would be better-treated, safer.

To make a long story short: they weren't safe, not in any sense of the word.  As I drove down a large hill on my way home, I felt myself start to spin out of control.  I don't know if I pressed on the brakes instinctively or if I just relinquished control of the vehicle, but I panicked when I felt the front end of the car behind me smash into the back of the passenger side of my car, right where my friend was sitting.  The impact of this crash made me spin all the way around so that my car was perpendicular to the road, and the driver's seat directly in the line of the car that was heading right toward me down the hill.  I knew it wouldn't be able to stop, and at this point I was frankly surprised that nobody besides me was screaming their head off from the shock of the spin, but I was certain that at that moment I was going to die.  I was going to die.

What could I do? As we spun around, I saw the headlights of the car.  But I couldn't look.  I felt a sense of helplessness, as if I was chained to the ground, unable to avoid the car that would eventually kill me.  I couldn't move, I couldn't breathe.  All I could hear were my own ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygods, and as I gasped for air I turned my body away from the headlights and held onto the center console for dear life.  If I was going to die, I just couldn't bring myself to allow the last image I saw to be the growing pair of headlights coming toward me.

How did I end up in a driveway, off the street? It is honestly a blur, but I know that I became hysterical when I couldn't open the drivers side door (which was completely smashed in by the second car that hit).  Screaming and crying, I couldn't even think to call the police -- the first person I attempted to call was my mom.  It felt surreal that I had emerged from the car, along with two other girls, completely unscathed, from this wreck that felt like it should have been the end of the world.

I am honestly lucky to be alive; lucky that I don't even have a bruise to show from this accident.  Lucky that I didn't wreck another girl's swim season along with my car; lucky that my parents didn't have to take one or both of their daughters to the hospital that night.  But what I realized later as I was marveling at my own vitality was that I was also lucky that things hadn't ended the way they did with my mom.  I used to make it such a point to never leave things in a poor state, you know, in case anything happened.  But as I grew up, I almost became immune to the idea that we are fragile.  Nothing bad will happen to us, I somehow convinced myself.  And I stopped feeling the intense urge to repair things before I saw people again -- because I assumed there would always be a next time, in which I could do the same.

I don't know.  I just feel so much more fragile after this accident.  So much more fleeting.  I am a blip on the universe, and I can die (and it wouldn't even bat an eyelash).  But mostly, I feel pretty stirred by the fact that things could have ended so poorly with my mom.  It's not really a realization that can be succinctly and beautifully summarized using words, but I thought it was something definitely worth sharing.