And Then It Hit Me
DAY: 16
LOCATION: Cairns
Oh what a beautiful morning
Oh what a beautiful day
I’ve got a wonderful feeling,
Everything’s going my way.
I woke up feeling positively jazzed. Today was the first day since Melbourne I felt 100 percent healthy, so I celebrated with a run through the botanical gardens, my first in Oz. Some of my favorite moments in life have been running abroad, so I was seriously happy to be kicking up those endorphins.
While not quite as removed as the Daintree, the rainforest boardwalk provided an excellent landscape for a fully immersed meditative run (and less than a mile from the house!) It had the same “alive” quality, the whole place buzzing with interconnected activity. No need for headphones with this sort of natural symphony.
By the time I got home, I was a blissed out sweaty mess. The clock hadn’t even struck 9, but the sun was already getting intense, especially when combined with the humidity. It would’ve been the perfect day to do the Great Barrier Reef, but the tour company I wanted to go with had been sold out. I’d booked a spot for tomorrow instead – hopefully it would be this clear. Regardless, it was lovely weather to explore Port Douglas.
On the road again, I felt nothing but smiles. I stopped at a Woolworths to pick up water, snacks, and fresh pressed juice. Man, I’m really getting the hang of this traveling alone thing! I thought as I pulled out of the lot. After doing the Daintree yesterday, my confidence had really soared. Even David the producer, not much one for compliments, had commented last night that I was “one strong chick” for doing the rainforest solo. Go me!
The further away I got from Cairns, the faster the speed along the highway picked up. There were a ton of roundabouts and intermittent rain, so I drove extra carefully. But I’d finally gotten comfortable with the car and the left side of the road. It was beginning to feel second nature, as all the Aussies had assured me it would.
And then it happened. The truck in front of me began to brake, putting on his turn signal. There was an unmarked dirt road coming up on the right. This seems like a really dangerous place to have a turnout like that, I thought as I slowed from 70 to 40 to 20.
I’d almost completely stopped by the time I glanced in my rearview mirror. The car behind me was not slowing down. Oh my god, it’s happening again… I braced myself for the impact…
For some reason the sound hits you first. The screech of the tires, the metal against metal, the auditory crumpling of these hunks of machinery we call cars. The only thing you don’t hear is your screaming. Maybe because you aren’t actually screaming. Because your body is in fight or flight, literally flying through the air, jerking you this way and that, your sunglasses no longer on your head but somewhere under the seat. It’s the most real and unreal moment of your life, like looking through a microscope with one eye and a telescope with the other, and you finally know you’re going to die, not as an abstract concept but as a concrete truth. It’s the most liberating thing you’ve ever felt…
And then the world goes completely still. There’s a reason the sound stops in movies right after big accidents and everything just sort of freezes, because that’s exactly what it feels like. You spend your whole life trying to reach this level of stillness in meditation, but it takes a speeding car slamming into you at 70 km an hour to really get there. To remind you of who you truly are… who I truly am…
“Are you okay?”
People had stopped to help. The police were on there way. The paramedics were on there way. The driver of the truck was okay, his rear bumper a little banged up. The driver behind me was walking on the other side of the road, where her car lay totaled. A company car. The airbag deployed. Her chest was going to hurt, but she was okay.
“Are you okay?”
There was some blood on my dress. The same dress I’d worn the night I’d met Levi. It was from my shoulder, a small cut. My body was shaking. I’d felt this twice before. Once when I was 18, and again last summer. Shock. Until you’ve experienced it, there’s no way for you to know what it feels like. Surreal. Indescribable.
“Are you okay?”
They told me not to go in the car, but I needed my phone. I needed to tell my parents. Monika. James. People that loved me. God loved me. My angels loved me. How else was I still standing here, next to another destroyed car on another highway?
“Are you okay?”
My vitals were good. My joints were all moving. My head didn’t hurt, not yet. The EMT seemed very surprised, but I was a pro at this car accident thing. Three for three walking away. My mom always said I was lucky as a kid. I guess she was right.
“Are you okay?”
The owner of the company car drove me back into Cairns. He’d spent 20 years of his life traveling. He was nice to talk to, friendly. Carl, on the other hand, didn’t look very happy to see me. He told me I’d be charged the $4100. He was just doing his job, but what a thing to say. A woman from Europcar called me later after seeing the damage. She sounded genuinely concerned.
“Are you okay?”
Carrie hugged me the way only a mother can. I wept on to her cotton dress. Heaved. I couldn’t stop crying. At least for awhile. Trixie helped lick up the tears. Levi called. It was good to hear his voice. His accent. I was seeing him in two days. I was seeing the Great Barrier Reef tomorrow. How was any of this possible? I couldn’t wrap my head around it.
“Are you okay?”
I could’ve died this morning. I could’ve died February 23rd, 2004. I could’ve died June 14th, 2016. I could’ve died any day. I could have a concussion right now and die tonight in my sleep! What if I’m dying?? I don’t want to die, not yet. Not yet!
“Are you okay?”
I walked down to the esplanade with my journal. I wrote a short piece. Spontaneous poetry, my vegan spirit guide Patrick called it. “After the Crash.” I looked up and there was a rainbow. I knew it was God. I knew it was okay. I knew I was okay.
“I am.”
