I was falling gently into a misty drifting twilight world between sleep and wakefulness. Robert was already asleep; soft, warm-slow breaths on the back of my neck. A noise startled, pulling me away from that place. I desperately wanted to resist it.
“Errh…phone” I mumbled into the pillow “phone”
“Whassat? Whaa?” slurred Robert
We’d got back late for a Thursday evening. We’d been over to see some friends after supper; it must have been around twelve by the time we got into bed.
“Phone!” I stagger unsteadily out of bed, bumping into the chest and slipping on the rug.
“Light on?” murmured Robert from the depths of the duvet “Didn’t hear. Sure?”
We once tried to have a phone in our bedroom, but because of thick cob walls and a dodgy connection that was ungetatable we gave up. Sometimes we hear the phone at night and I guess sometimes we don’t. Often it’s a misdialled number or a hoax.
I drunkenly stumbled the stairs to the study, fumbled for the light, but missed the call. It had gone onto answerphone. No message. I dialled 1471 but my brain hadn’t hooked up yet and the numbers meant nothing. Shaking my head and slapping my face to reawaken the blood supply I was about to redial when the phone went again.
“Hello?”
“Mum?”
“Oll – what’s happened?”
None of those things that are meant to happen happened. My heart didn’t stop. My stomach didn’t plummet. I didn’t feel sick. I didn’t turn to ice.
“I’ve crashed.”
“Are you okay?”
Those words – so futile – are you okay? Are you broken? Are you bleeding to death? Has your head, your body or any of your limbs been scrunched, torn, flung across the countryside? Is anyone else hurt, maimed, dead? Are you going to live? You are my child. I bleed when you do. Every one of your hurts hurts me…more. I love you.
“Are you okay?”
“I think so. Yes, I think so.”
He had also, unusually for a Thursday, been over to see some friends too. He’d decided to come home via a different route. They’ve been resurfacing all the small back roads and as he rounded a bend he hit a thick layer of new gravel and went into a skid; the wheels locked, he careered up a short elevated track to a field entrance, which flipped the car over bouncing it on a salt/gravel box, throwing it onto its roof and rolling it over again down the hill. It came to rest on the driver’s side in the middle of the road. He managed to crawl out of the passenger door.
Seeing it there, bottom side up across the road, a broken, skewed crushed metal box spewing forth glass, fuel and radiator fluid started the icy fingers of shock moving through my body. How he came out of it unscathed I don’t know. That no one else was involved – another miracle.
We managed to turn the car upright and tow it with the truck to a safe place near by. The next day in the light we would deal with it. Now back home, sweet tea and bed.
Robert and I felt peculiar yesterday – strange, disorientated and off-kilter. Olly, who I thought might be battered and bruised once the initial shock wore off was, still, miraculously, completely unscathed.
not olly’s car
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July 19, 2008 at 2:28 pm
Lindsay
By the sound of it the crash was horrific – so good nobody was hurt.
July 19, 2008 at 8:09 pm
Mopsa
Oh my goodness, thank everything Olly is ok. When I saw that photo I shouted out loud until I scrolled down far enough to see it was NOT his car. Deep breaths. And hugs all round.
July 20, 2008 at 12:01 am
Catherine Sherman
I was relieved to see that the smashed car wasn’t your son’s. What a gut-wrenching experience for you. I got a call from my son two years ago, (but in the evening, it didn’t wake me) that he’d crashed on his way home from college. A deer had dashed into the road during rutting season, and Matt hit it. He was still able to drive the car, despite a lot of damage, so we didn’t have to go to his rescue. I was always afraid when he drove that road after that. His university was in a very forested area with winding narrow roads. (Ozark Mountains in Missouri.) We saw memorials to students who’d been killed on it, and there was always a car in the ditch when we visited. I was happy when he transferred to another university, with a straight four-lane highway leading to it. Not that parents ever stop worrying……
July 21, 2008 at 9:57 am
paula
Amazing – his car didn’t look dissimilar to the photo above.
An aside – did you know that wordpress people can’t leave comments on your blog unless they register. I did have this problem last year when blogger was changing its format. I believe if you allow anonymous that’s when you get the other options. But – I could be quite wrong…if you know otherwise let me know.
July 21, 2008 at 10:01 am
paula
I’m still doing the deep breathing. Olly suffering from delayed shock yesterday when driven home by a friend, seems better today.
The car was shocking to see. Hopefully he’ll be ultra careful for some time to come.
Haying? I am…
July 21, 2008 at 10:07 am
paula
No cathy you’re right. I guess I was becoming a bit complacent on the worry stakes – but that’s all been switched up a notch now.
Deer are so dangerous and quick – we have quite a lot around here – and someone I know had one jump off a hedge bank onto the roof of their car. They are big animals and can do so much damage as you said. I’m so glad your son was unharmed too.
Big sighs of relief.
July 22, 2008 at 2:48 am
heidi
Good Night! Who ever is watching over him did a good job! I too saw the car and thought HolyS##t! I go on vacation for three days and….well..
Iam extremely happy Olly is well and alive!
July 22, 2008 at 9:17 pm
paula
It was all a bit shocking – more so after the event is past and gone really – it’s only then you dare contemplate all those scary ‘what ifs’.
But as you say – the main thing is Olly got out okay.
July 25, 2008 at 11:14 am
eyegillian
It’s funny how a phone call can seem so… unreal… as in, have I dreamed this? But seeing the car must have been such a shock. I’ve seen so many accidents, some of which would give me nightmares if I allowed myself to dwell on them, but fortunately my own accidents have been minor. Still, it’s amazing how people are able to walk away, relatively unscathed! I’m so glad your son was ok.
July 25, 2008 at 3:47 pm
paula
Yes, it’s remarkable how resilient the human body can be, though at other times so frail.
Yes – he’s a lucky chap for sure. We could all be feeling very different.