I guess you never really know how things will turn out.  One moment you are driving along, listening to your kids talk in the back, watching the snow come down, and the next minute you are skidding out and you cannot stop yourself.

Two hours from my starting point, yesterday, our car skidded out on some slush and hit the barrier to our right, which propelled us across the highway, where we flew over the median and across the lanes of oncoming traffic, plunging down a fifty-foot embankment and crashing down at the bottom.  We flew.  We literally left the ground and landed, fifty feet down, crushing the nose of the van and then landing on the passenger side.

And then our angels dusted themselves off and we miraculously all walked out of it.

I mean, it was crazy. There were screaming children and YaYa's hands were bleeding, and I couldn't get them out of their car seats, and the van was filling with the smell of gas, and we were in the snow, and I didn't know if anyone would find us.  But then there they were, on their way to the ballet in Merritt, the town that we crashed fifty km away from, a group of guys who pulled us out of the van through the shattered back window.  And then there happened to be an emergency nurse who checked the kids over and we sat in someone's car until the ambulance came.

And then I was strapped to a gurney, with a back board, and a collar, until they could check my spine out. So the whole time I was in the ambulance I was strapped to this thing, and trying to keep it light for the kids. "Don't you think I look funny like this, Kid A?"  "No," was the reply. Kid A was really, really worried about the fact that we were borrowing Grandma's van to make the drive, and what was she going to do without her van?  I had to work really hard to convince him that he didn't need to worry about the grownup problems.

Finally the hospital, and x-rays, and a doctor who wasn't so nice, and two victim services people who took care of the kids and were absolutely some of the sweetest people I've ever met. And YaYa's arm was bandaged, which caused some more trauma. When they finally let me get off of that board, I wobbled over to where the kids were and found them all cuddled on the bed together while Yaya was getting her hand taken care of.

I am still a bit bewildered, the whole day was so crazy. Which is an understatement. Looking down, after, at how far we fell, I couldn't believe we were all okay. Seeing the van in the towing yard, when we went to get our stuff, I couldn't believe we were all okay. Seeing the window that was next to YaYa's all smashed in, I couldn't believe we were all okay. Finding her blankie with blood all over it, well.

There were mercies, mercies. There were angels. We came bruised and shaken, and in YaYa's case, a bit cut up, out of a crash that could have been so much worse.ÂThere are so many things that were like pure mercy.

On Saturday night, before we left, my dad felt uncomfortable about the seatbelt in the middle of the back seat of the van, where Leafy's car seat was going to be. So he put a piece of chain link through the seat belt, fastening it so that there was no way that it could budge.

I was kicking myself on my way, because I forgot the camera. This, however, is the camera that we use for some of our income, the camera that we could not replace because of its crazy expensiveness. And it was safe at my parents' house, rather than being smashed up in the wreck, like some of our belongings. It's a small thing, but rather important, because it's part of our livelihood.

I feel like I'm rambling, and I don't exactly know what to say, except that I'm thankful, so, so thankful that my YaYa girl is alright, that we are all alright. That I am only bruised. That there are no broken bones. That we are all alive.