one

I have just one overarching goal this year: create/contribute more than I consume.  In short C/C > C

tibet

While my sister was up for the holidays, we found ourselves on a windy winter road between two small towns in southern Idaho, me at the wheel. The grey frozen crust of snow leftover from the previous night's plows was not particularly treacherous, but still I found myself hunched and gripping.  Suddenly we're swerving to the right,  then fish-tailing uncontrollably. I'm so sorry Anna, I think to myself. And then I'm back to reality, driving slowly down the country road, hot air blowing  over my hands. "Do you want me to drive?" she asks. "No, I'm fine." I really am fine. Most of the time. And then the story of our car crash and Tibetan medical care and broken glass-filled carseat and how I still have flashbacks in almost any inclement weather poured out.

It still lives in my head and makes such frequent appearances in my thoughts,  so I realize I kind of assume everyone close to me acquainted with the details. But I've never written about it in a journal, or attempted to put the whole thing into words to keep.

"Yeah, I remember when you got back from China, mom told me you'd been in a bad wreck, but that you didn't really like to talk about it, so not to ask." I had no idea it was perceived this way, and had not intended to keep anything unsaid.  I felt like we had told so many people. Regardless, Erin had never really heard what happened that day I almost disappeared into the mist and rivers of western China.

Now that Anna is sleeping soundly, I've decided to sit here by the window, silent snow filling the sky outside, and begin to recount what happened. So that it will exist somewhere besides my head.

***scratch that.  This is going to take longer than what's left of nap time. But here are some pictures from right before and after. Story to come soon.