“One is loved because one is loved. No reason is needed for loving.” — Paulo Coelho

Perspective. I have been thinking a lot lately about perspective. I have been wondering how long it will be before we can look back at the ‘time’ after the accident and see ourselves. How it has truly affected us. We have travelled a long road since that fateful day. We are coming up on four years. Four years. How that happened is beyond me. Time goes by. It passes. It sort of heals. Maybe heal is not the right word. Maybe it is. I guess it feels like healing. But I think it is a bit more like forgetting. The brain packs a little bit more of it away as each day passes. It packs away the extraordinary and the strange, and tries to push us back into normalcy. We begin to feel more normal. A new normal. I am not the same person I was on that sunny, July day. Neither is Chris. I sometimes ponder. Where would we be if the accident had not happened? Who would we be? What would this family look like? How would we have lived these last four years? If we had not been touched by the cool hand of trauma.

I have contemplated this a bit in my earlier blogs. I try not to think about it too often. It does not change anything. Thinking about it. Those two people will never exist. They never did. We only imagined what our future would be. We only imagined who we would become. Those people were not real. They never will be. Those two people were simply constructs of our imaginations.

That Shani and that Chris are not us. They did not know what we know. They did not talk about miracles. Or trauma. Or broken backs. Or panic attacks. They could not see the people who would stand by them. The people who would not. They did not realize how hard they would have to fight. That they would be pushed to their knees more than once. That many of their hopes and dreams would never happen. They did not know they would become us. The people we are now. This Shani. This Chris.

I am looking forward to gaining perspective. In certain aspects, I already have. In some ways, I might even miss this time in our lives. When we are still searching. Forming. Understanding. I do know though, that there will be a day. A day when I stand high upon a new mountain. Looking over the valleys and hills we are passing through now. On that day, I will know who we have become on our travels. How this trauma has changed us. It will be behind us though, and a new adventure will be waiting.

We packed up the truck with supplies, and headed off in the early morning. The highway felt good. I do not really know why. I guess because on the highway I felt like I was in control again. Tense, but in control. Somehow things felt less uncertain. We were driving toward certainty. The kids were snuggled into their car seats, their favourite teddies cuddled into them. My sister sat in between them, adjusting screens and changing shows as needed. Chris felt not too bad as we drove, windows slightly down, painkillers kicking in. About an hour into the drive, we stopped for coffee at our usual place. We knew this highway well. It was the highway that usually took us home to visit our families. It was the highway that took us on holidays. A highway I loved to drive.

Flying would have made more sense. Chris had collapsed a lung in the accident though. This made flying impossible. No flying for six weeks after a collapsed lung. We knew this from our first road trip. From our cancelled flights. Booked for our trip home from hospital. So this was the next best option. It felt a bit like an adventure. Like that feeling we get when we head out onto the open road. The world rushing past us in a blur. Cars full of people pass by. All headed in a clear direction. Knowing where they are going. Confusion and uncertainty left at the door.

It was August long weekend, so the roads were busy. Not too busy. Just busy enough. I have always loved road trips. They have always made me feel alive. I love leaving and I love arriving. This one was a strange one. But it felt good. A truck packed with the people I love. Children’s shows playing in the background. The radio playing music in the front.

Like the last road trip we had made. Just two weeks prior. Following the same roads. Just in the opposite direction. We did not know how far we could travel each day. This again would be up to Chris and his pain. We would play it by ear. Be spontaneous. Open to what each day would bring. Hoping only for the best. Not really thinking about hotel rooms and where we would stay. Forgetting that long weekends. Especially August long weekends. Create full hotel rooms and no vacancy signs. This we would contend with. Adapt to. Laugh about. Even Chris. Who would have to sit too long. Kids cramped in the back. Taking it in stride. My sister and I. Organizing. Directing. Finding a way through the best we could. Living in the moment. Creating memories of a road trip we will never forget.