We interrupt this comedy for some real life

I'd rather not be dead, thank you

I forgot the first rule of driving tonight and nearly died. The first rule being of course:

1. Do not attempt to immerse your car completely in snow at 45 mph on the edge of a cliff.

I might be dead, seriously. Maybe this is some kind of ghost blog because I came around a corner on the edge of the mountain on the drive home and saw in front of me a 2-foot snow drift covering the entire road.

This was dangerous for three reasons:

1. The sneaky bit of road behind me had had NO snow on it.

2. I WAS ON THE EDGE OF A CLIFF.

3. It made my life flash before my eyes and I was momentarily distracted by St. Patty's Day 1992 when I should have been worried about the stretch of vast whiteness in my headlights.

What made it worse was that when I did realize what kind of trouble I was in, there was very little that I could do about. I Couldn't slam on the brakes because the road had snow on it (but not the big drift yet) so I had a couple of moments to really let it all sink in.

I really thought I was dead.

So quickly I said goodbye to everybody in my head and told them I loved them (yes, that was me, If you were wondering where that thought came from earlier, but I was a bit panicked so I might have broadcast a general signal, I didn't have time to really focus [there is a lumberjack in Montana having a strange dream from that, I'm sure])

And then I hit the drift and spun out of control, because you can't hit a 2-foot drift at that speed going around a corner and stay in control, I was disappointed to find out.

And then I was in the middle of the road. Stopped. A couple of hundred yards away from the drift. Only it wasn't a whole drift anymore, not that I looked, and I wasn't even injured, my car was fine.

And I thought for a moment about a girl I know, dying of cancer at 15-years old and I realized again what a gift it all is.

How many things do we walk away from in a life that she will never have?

I wonder at the courage it takes her to fight for every day, and I wish there was a less pain-filled version of all this in this thing called living, but I bet she would take pretty much anything it if it were offered.

And I don't know that there's a point to this writing except I remember so well the first time I met her.

It was a cool night and the air in the school was warm from the press of moving, vital bodies. She was pale and shy and laughed.

She was embarassed when the crowd cheered for her. Her eyes welled up and she hid her face behind her hand, but you could see she was happy.

Her family was happy, too, but it was the hard happy. The happy we, those who have seen life, know. It was guarded with darkness.

This girl smiled and held her friend's hand and waved to the crowd. The squeaking shoe noise of a basketball game broke the spell minutes later.

The air was still chilly when I left. Clouds scudded across the moon and I saw a young couple sneaking a kiss next to a car in the crowded parking lot.

My heart broke a little bit when I saw that.

I thought of that shy, pale little girl and all I wanted was for her to have one of those moments, In the cool night air, full of anything, possibility, life.