Hay!
While I was growing up, we lived by a dairy farm that had hundreds on Holstein cows that roamed the little hills and valley. Nearby, hay rolls would line the fields during harvest seasons. It was a beautiful small town, rural in nature yet not too far from the necessities.
Whether we were driving to school, or around town, whenever my mom saw a field of hay, she would spontaneously yell “HAY!” and point out the window. It would scare the absolute tarnation out of my brother and I. She would start giggling, amused, and then we would glower from our seats for the start it gave us. We hated it, but we were slightly amused and loved it at the same time. It became a bit of a family tradition that I continued with my kids whenever our car was nice and quiet.
I realized I have not shared my story on this blog yet. For those who don’t know me, on September 8th, 2016 my husband and I were in an “accident”. I say this with quotations because I personally don’t believe in accidents on a spiritual level and secondly, had the person properly secured his load- I wouldn’t be here writing this. Then again, I wouldn’t be here writing this. I could go down the road of what ifs and list the reasons, the theories, etc. …because trust me, I have definitely spent hours contemplating it all. However, the moment it happened, I knew it was something that was going to change my life forever and there was a purpose behind it all.
On that fate filled evening, after celebrating my mother’s birthday at a local Mexican restaurant, a tractor trailer hauling several rolls of hay lost control of its improperly secured load. Six or seven rolls of hay dislodged and came tumbling off of his trailer. Over a year and a half later, the opposing attorney would exclaim insincerely my husband and I were "at the wrong place at the wrong time.” *
*As a side note, don’t ever say that to someone. I can assure you it does not make them feel better, nor does it excuse the negligence. Instead brews a fire so hot in the injured party that their partner will gently place their hand on said party’s leg under the table to keep the boiled volcano from leaping out of their seat and exploding.
In a sadistic game of Frogger, I watched as hay rolls fell from the top tier of the stack as we were traveling in the oncoming lane. We were not behind them. The tractor trailer was traveling one way down the small country road and we were traveling the opposite direction. I have concluded that chances of that happening to anyone else is so incredibly low, I feel like we deserve to win a trophy of some sort, or have a club with letterman jackets. Cursing, I turned my head to block the flying glass and coiled as I grabbed onto the bottom of the passenger seat. Our car abruptly came to a halt on the shoulder of an embankment. Immediately following the impact, I knew something was wrong. Even though my adrenaline was pumping, I could feel all of the superficial trauma, but I also immediately recognized something in my neck was terribly wrong.
It’s been a long journey over the last 7 years. In the moment of the accident, the old Jenn died and the person that took over was a shell of her old persona. I was a shell of a person. Despite knowing the accident was purposeful in my life’s journey, I grieved my old self, my old body, my old life. It was heart wrenching and some of the pits of despair were so deep I was afraid I’d never be able to climb my way out.
But I did.
I welcome you to my blog. My little corner of the world where I share my knowledge, my experience, and what’s helped me navigate this crazy journey of life. Thank you for being here.
Big Hugs,
Jenn
