A split second

Saturday night was another of our monthly family evenings with Ed's parents and sister's family. It was a cosy night over at Sil and Fred's place. Chinese take-out, followed by playing with the kids and putting them to bed, crowned with a cuppa and chockies while watching Fred and Sil's recording of their wedding day. With directors commentary from the lead actors, we watched sections of the three-part DVD set.

By the time Ed and I left Uden, we were full of our own plans for our upcoming nuptials. While Ed negotiated the wet road and poor visibility that rainy autumn night, I fell into day-dreaming about our July 2007 wedding reception, and the potential novelty act my family may put on as part of the Dutch wedding reception tradition ...

then a terrible thing happened before our very eyes.

At a major intersection just on the outskirts of Eindhoven, a motorcyclist attempted to take a turn in front of an oncoming car in the opposite direction. Horribly, the man on the bike had misjudged the timing of his manoeuvre.

As though in slow motion, Edwin and I saw the car plough through the bike which then swept over on its side. The man was separated from his machine while the innocent (yet I'm sure guilt-riddled) car trundled off-road, into the highway gutter. Traffic piled up and phones everywhere were whipped out to call "112" emergency assistance for the fallen rider. Edwin got through and arranged for an ambulance.

Relieved, we saw that the injured man was intact although very groggy. He was helped by closer motorists to a sitting position. So Edwin and I grimly resumed the drive home.

Edwin asked me if I was all right. I said I was. But somewhere deep down, I wasn't.

All "this" could go in the blink of an eye. In any way at all. Only a week or so ago for some strange reason, I was thinking how devastating it would be should I ever lose Edwin. And then on Tuesday he had a terrifying loss-of-consciousness-seizure experience at the dentist where he was given too much anasthaetic. Sombre thoughts have come in and out of my mind since that day.

You see, I've been a bit stressed, a bit bossy, a bit of a bored-house-wife/shrew-cum-bridezilla. The accident made me question why I should fritter away truly precious time freaking out over a wedding 8 months away when I should be worrying about whether Edwin is recovering to full-tote health. How ludicrous to put any negative energy into planning for some fantasy "big day" when there are many run-of-the-mill, but really beautiful days (all big in their way) to be had between now and then.

Ah life. It can be beautiful, horrifying and overwhelming for the senses.

And we must not forget the power in there being only a split second between what we know and what we do not.

Got to savour every moment.

And every moment starts ...

now.