That’s what Jungian Analyst Robert Johnson calls the small, seemingly-trivial events of ones life that combine to lead them to wherever they ultimately end up. A slender thread can be a train that’s missed that causes you to miss meeting someone new, a flat tire that somehow introduces you to another who you later can’t imagine not having in your life, an illness that causes you to cancel a trip. On 9/11, there were a lot of slender threads at work and if you watched any of the interviews or read any of the books that detailed that day, you know that those threads might have been a sick child that caused a mother to stay home that day rather than go in to her job at the Trade Center, an off-site meeting that pulled an executive who normally would have been there at 7AM to somewhere else entirely, a broken down subway that initially caused rush hour irritation but in the end, was the unlikely guardian angel that made people not arrive at the towers until after the first plane hit.
When you start paying attention, the slender threads are everywhere. And whatever they are… destiny or simply just chance… I have a sneaking suspicion that they totally shape our lives. These little slender threads come together to create a whole experience. And one tiny thing can, ultimately, be the reason you make a new friend, the reason a relationship does (or doesn’t) work, or, more significantly, the reason you survived at all. Every major experience in a person’s life, it seems, can be traced back to a trivial occurrence that probably went totally unnoticed, lost in the greater landscape of seemingly more important events.
Yesterday was a weird, weird day. Despite what we’re calling a down economy, I have been incredibly busy at work. This last month has been every bit as successful as many of my months in the peak of the housing boom. That, combined with my just having accepted a new internship and having a lot of little things to do to get that rolling, means that I’ve been running around like a chicken with no head. I’ve been rushing through things a little more quickly than I normally would, skipping lunch here and there, cutting my normal 7-8 mile runs down to 3-4, driving a little faster to try to get to where I’m going a minute or so sooner. I have a lead foot and when I’m busy or time is crunched, it definitely gets a little heavier. That’s what happened yesterday. By the time I saw the motorcycle cop on the 78 freeway, it was already too late… he was pulling off the shoulder to chase me.
Here’s the thing: I wasn’t even going that fast. Yes, I was speeding, but it was not an unreasonable speed for a freeway. Anyone could have gotten this ticket and honestly, it’s not even a speed for which you’d think a cop would bother pulling you over. But this one did. And despite the fact that he DID ticket me, he was probably the friendliest cop I’ve ever talked to in my life. Totally cordial. “I know it’s Friday and I’m sorry to do this to you, ma’am, but that’s just a tiny bit over the line of unsafe speed on State Route 78. It’s my job to keep you safe. Slow it down just a little, okay? And have a great weekend.” My first thought was ARE YOU SERIOUSLY BEING THIS NICE TO ME WHILE YOU’RE BEING THIS MUCH OF AN ASSHOLE? but whatever. I’ve gotten enough speeding tickets in my life to know it doesn’t make any sense to try to talk your way out of them. Just sign your name, slow down, and try to forget the irritation as quickly as possible.
After my appointments, I spent the rest of the evening with my best friend and her family. We do this occasionally… dinner and a movie. It’s easier for them than leaving the house because their son can go to sleep in his own bed while we do whatever we want. They live pretty far north of me… a good 40 minute drive… so I usually stay for several hours. I left there last night about 9:50. It was starting to rain just a little bit. I started down the first long stretch of road towards my house. It’s a road on which I’d usually speed. And I actually did start to speed… for a minute. It’s a straight stretch and other than the drizzle, there isn’t much reason not to. Except, oh yeah, that stupid speeding ticket and let me not tempt fate and possibly get another one. So I slowed down. And just before turning off of this road I looked right directly ahead of me to see what was likely the worst thing I have ever personally witnessed:
Black Suburban, front end destroyed. Windshield destroyed. Still spinning violently. Another car, the car it hit, literally airborne and moving rapidly, possibly upside-down (I can’t be sure because it was moving to quickly to tell). The sound of shattering glass and screaming tires. Horns. Smoke. The second car, the one that was airborne, landed down the road about 50 yards away. I slammed on my brakes. It was an intersection… a traffic light… the last one I’d have crossed before turning onto Highway 76… the road immediately north of the earlier road on which I earned my speeding ticket. I looked upward and realized that the traffic lights in both directions were totally dead. Oh my god. It was foggy, drizzly, visibility was low, and neither of these people knew to stop. I looked at the woman in the car next to me and her eyes were welled with tears and her mouth hanging slightly open. She seemed to be looking to me for reassurance, except that I couldn’t give her any… I’m pretty sure I just mirrored her expression. I was frozen, which was fine, because you couldn’t have gone anywhere anyway. The road was totally blocked. And then, people running… there were ten-or-so people running from the opposite direction yelling someone’s name. Had they just left a restaurant and possibly knew the person or people in the car? They were all literally screaming, crying, prying open doors, and what I could hear them yelling was muffled “open it… see if… is she breathing… no… oh my god… 911…” and more and more screaming. Someone pulled a baby out of the Suburban, inconsolable, but thank god, alive. All I could think about after that was getting out of there as quickly as possible. What I’d just seen was horrible enough and I didn’t need to see them zipping people into body bags. No thanks.
Those roads are seriously scary out there. I think about it every day.
I guess the first reason I’m telling this story because the images of it flooded my dreams for most of the night. It was the first thing I thought of this morning. Because it took place on a surface street and not a freeway, I can’t find any information about it on the news this morning. But I really hope everyone is okay. I can’t tell you how much I hope that.
The second reason I’m telling it is this: I was pissed about my speeding ticket, but it was the thing that had me driving down Douglas Drive a little more slowly. Had I not been driving a little more slowly, I might have been crossing that intersection at the exact moment that horrible impact took place. And while I would like to think that I know the area well enough that I’d have been expecting the traffic light and known something was amiss when I didn’t see it, it was dark and foggy and I can’t be sure. Mine might have been the third car involved. And even if you’re involved in a crash like that and walk away totally unscathed, there’s no way that it wouldn’t totally change your life. So that officer… I almost feel like I should thank him. I think he may have been one of my slender threads.
There shouldn’t ever be a day that goes by on which you don’t count the ways in which you’re grateful. Ever.
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