And Now, The Rest of the Story

Since a single word is likely not sufficient on this issue, I offer you this longer explanation.

First of all, I am fine. Shaken, stiff and still scared. But I am fine.

I shall set the scenario. You are welcome to gasp at the scary moments and giggle at the nonsensical bits. I am certain that some moment soon, I will laugh a little about it too.

I was cycling toward my home yesterday afternoon. (I had spent my day off doing IMPORTANT STUFF like getting my nails done and shopping. My plan was to drop my shopping bags off at the house and then continue my ride out to the school to pick up Andrew from the After School Care.) I was not quite underway (stopped at the red light at the intersection) when Emma called me as she had just arrived home and was wondering where I was. I told her that I was on my way and would see her in about 2 minutes. The light turned green, I tucked my phone into my coat pocket and set off down the bike path.

Just one street away from home as I was cycling this way==> I saw a car on the cross street preparing to enter the main street I was riding parallel to. As is law in this country, as a bike I have right of way to travel first and automobiles are required to yield.

But she didn't.

She accelerated.

I pulled hard on my brakes, realized I was too close to be able to pull off a full stop and tried to swerve forward around the front of her car (risking the dart into oncoming traffic).

I failed.

Her car struck my left hip which caused me to tip, bike and all, into and onto her car. After that moment it all gets a little fuzzy to me and the next moment I have coherent memory of I was lying on the street with a blanket under my head. Millions (okay, a dozen) bystanders were swirling around me shouting directions at each other and asking me a million (yes, a million) questions in rapid-fire Dutch. In the midst of all that chaos the only thing that seemed reasonable (this is one of the non-sensical bits) for me to do was to fish in my pocket for my phone and call Don. So I did.

At that point I couldn't tell you the order of events really. I know there was loads of panic and at some point while I was talking to Don, Emma came running from the house, my colleagues from work arrived (Don made all these phone calls simultaneously while talking to me) and someone shoved a phone into my hand to speak to the ambulance dispatch. Later Ian called from home to ask where I was and as soon as I told him what happened he came running too, with the house phone still in his hand.

The police arrived. The ambulance arrived. They cordoned off the scene with red tape. (When I do something, I do like to do it big!) And after what seemed like a million years (plus one) I was checked out, statemented out, and released to go home.

That's where I am now. Feeling very lucky.

Remember, I Remember

This is my friend Jessica.

Jessica and I taught in neighboring classrooms at Awakening Seed School in Phoenix for many years. She is a young, vibrant woman with a remarkable ability to make everyone (child, parent and colleague) around her feel loved and cherished. I loved to visit in her classroom, whether as the Movement Specialist working with her students, or as the whiny co-worker looking for a little venting session with a good listener. Either way, it was a joy to be around Jessica. Always smiling, always ready with a hug, always with a laugh just about to erupt over the funny life of an Early Childhood Education teacher, Jessica has been a bright light in my life.

Yesterday as I was partway through my work day here in The Hague, I received an email from a friend which read in part:

It is my task to deliver some sad news to you regarding Jessica Worthington, who taught at the Seed for many years. Jessica was 36 weeks pregnant with her first baby and in the last few weeks ran into some complications with her pregnancy. She developed problems with her liver, which resulted in the loss of her baby last Thursday, September 11th. Jessica herself never recovered, and also passed on Sunday evening.

And I felt the light go out.

I want to say something meaningful and poetic here about the journey of life and the circle of our existence on this planet. But I am at a complete loss for words and choose now instead to cry a river in remembrance of Jessica; fully aware that as much as I grieve the loss of my friend I also celebrate her influence in my life.

Darling Jess, I thought I missed you when we moved across the ocean. I miss you exponentially more now. Goodbye, friend. I love you.

~jenn

Speechless

Andrew's First Day of Kindergarten

Wordless Wednesday
Featured here on Thursday
Because that's how I roll.

Declaring Independence

Nothing says homesick more than knowing the celebrations back home are just beginning...

Put another hot dog on the grill for me, won't you?

Happy 4th of July!

No Joy in Mudville

Oranje over and out.

Euro Cup Quarter Finals
NL v Russia 1-3

New color scheme on the blog tomorrow...

*sniff*

The Love Bug

Andrew made his appearance in our lives five years ago today. His debut to our family included all the usual ways a baby makes its way--maximum discomfort giving way to pain and then ultimate awe--when after a very long night and day of induced labor the nurses laid his purple-smoogey-pug-nosed self onto my belly. And Don and I met our third child.

His arrival in our lives marks the beginning of change for our family. I can never be sure if the surprise discovery (after a 7 year gap) of being pregnant was the impetus for all that change or simply coincidental. But you can well mark the year 2003 as that time and place where movement was afoot. Movement which ultimately brought our family across the ocean to uncharted (to us) territory as residents of a country, not our own.

There is not a minute of that journey I wish had been any different.

And truth be told, there is hardly a minute of life with Andrew in it that I would trade for anything. (There are a few sleepless nights I would reclaim, and let's be honest the temper tantrums of toddlerhood are not my favorite, but all for all it's all good.)

Having Andrew makes life an every-day-is-a-new-discovery adventure.

And I am so glad to be along for the ride.

If you are looking for cuteness and memory of just what I mean, you can read the archives of the Andrew anecdotes here.

But whether you take the time to walk down five-years of memory lane with me today or not, please add your voice (It's Music Monday after all) to the song we are singing here today.

"Happy Birthday Andrew!"

Mama is mad about you.

And Then the Tears Fell

I woke up this morning to a sweet surprise in my inbox. A surreal surprise really, but a welcome one all the same.
Judd Corizan of The Rising Blogger dropped me a line, a warm message, and a code for this button:

It is an award for this post. Someone pointed it out (who are you? I thank you kindly) and he picked it for the post of the day.

So I cried. Not only when I read his words in the email, but also when I read the post at his place. I don't have words enough to say thanks enough for the kindness shown. Perhaps you can help by popping by his and leaving a comment. Tell him I sent you.

Thanks and thanks and thanks again.

All my love,

Jenn