Christmas Came Early This Year

We were completely stopped. Not moving. Stationary. Neither of us were surprised. It was Atlanta after all. I-85 to be more precise. We were just passing through, like 19 hundred million other folks, on what I suspected to be a normal Friday afternoon.

I was thinking about Mom and my granddaughter. My Christian Mother used to joke—with the traffic and busy airport—The Rapture would have to go through Atlanta. And we were here, not moving, because we were on our way to see Avery Lee dance in “The Nutcracker.”

KABOOM! Our van bounced forward. My head hit the dash and ricocheted backwards. Thankfully some engineer had designed a headrest on the seat. It kept my noggin from landing in the back of the van!

As our whiplashing heads finally dwindled to a nod, Cathy broke the stunned silence. “We’ve been hit.” Maybe the understatement of the century!

The traffic, as if on cue, started to flow back to its normal NASCAR speeds. We didn’t dare open a door; it would immediately be twisted and tangled into modern art by the hands of the rushing automobiles.

I turned and asked Cathy how her life had been with me so far. We had time to get reacquainted. We talked of the days of yore, cloth diapers, raising teenagers, and friends galore. We cried again remembering the stark quietness surrounding us when our youngest left for college. We thanked God for good health, children that don’t write home for money, and the unadulterated joy of grandchildren.

I was almost disappointed when this interstate road hero drove up, magically stopped six lanes of traffic, and gently guided us to the quasi safety of the small space beside the far-right lane. “The police will be along shortly,” he proclaimed as he drove out of sight.

He reminded me of Santa Claus in brown Carhartt overalls sporting an iridescent yellow marked jacket. And he was gone just as quickly.

I immediately examined the damage. And was remarkably amazed at how little there was. Did I exaggerate the crash? Did my head not fall off my shoulders!

Larry was the guy in the middle car. He lived in nearby Suwanee. Heck of a nice guy. And so was Charlie, who was driving a small pickup, pulling a small pickup. Charlie ran into Larry who was knocked into us. Both of their vehicles showed a bit more of the accident than mine did. We exchanged driver licenses because one of them mentioned we should. It felt strange to me. And embarrassing! I almost couldn’t get my license out of the billfold. It hadn’t been removed in years.

We were on the side of the interstate holding our wallets, waiting for the police to arrive, and getting acquainted. Somehow, we got to showing each other family pictures. Then they pulled their phones out and got serious about sharing their lives!

Of course, I don’t own a cell phone. But I got to telling them about me and Leon and David Mark chasing those crazy hunting dogs of Uncle Rufus right through Marvin Winslow’s prized Rhode Island Red hen house back home.

I had that story down to where those fellas could see the feathers flying when the police arrived.

I was a might anxious about big city cops. Both turned out to be the nicest officers on the Atlanta force. They did not treat us as an inconvenience, but as real people. I was dying to ask Peggy if her middle name was Sue but Cathy spied my thought and discreetly shook her head no.

Took’em a while to fill out the report, then they hurried down to our car and Peggy said we could go. We didn’t have much damage and it clearly was not our fault.

I protested fairly vehemently, “Listen, this is a bucket list thing for me. What a lifetime achievement to have in my memoirs! It may not be skydiving or a Loretta Lynn sighting, but not everyone can boast of a genuine downtown Atlanta interstate crash.”

We’d only been delayed for a couple of hours. Was that long enough to qualify as a bucket list item?

Everyone agreed it was. We all shook hands; Peggy hugged my neck and gave me her number in case we ever got hit again passing through….

Here’s the Christmas part. God blessed all of us in that nobody got hurt. I don’t care about a dent in a piece of tin. We met a bunch of new friends. Cathy and I had some wonderful personal remembrances. And I acknowledged the many, many times we have driven through this busy city without one problem.

I marveled “all over again” at the grace, love, and protection of our Holy Father.

We got to the “Nutcracker” with time to spare. Avery was a star. And the second song of the evening was Brenda Lee singing. “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.”

Wow! An interstate traffic accident in Atlanta, Avery on stage, and Brenda Lee belting out a yuletide classic…you talk about a once in a lifetime trifecta!

Respectfully,
Kes
kesley45@aol.com