I remember that I was in a great mood that night. The football game had gone our way, and we had celebrated. I had eaten a wonderful dinner with my parents, and I was high on life. Life at university was good. Making decent grades, living on my own. I had a part-time job that was going well, and I had a ton of friends to spend time with.
I remember that it was cold that night. Not the biting cold of a Chicago Winter that freezes you through to your bones and actually hurts…not just on the outside but on the inside too, but the more subdued cold of late November in Alabama. The kind of cold where you walk outside without a jacket and think: Damn, it’s cold.
I used to enjoy being cold. Just cold enough to sharpen the senses. I used to love the way the cold felt when the wind blew across my skin and made me clench my teeth together and tighten my muscles in an attempt to steel myself against the onslaught. Not bitter cold, but cold enough. I loved the way it cleared my sinuses and allowed me to breathe deeply, and how it sharpened my vision. I loved how I could hear better, smell better, see better…the cold made all of my sensory inputs stronger in a way that is hard to explain.
Being cold made me feel on edge, aware. These days, the new agers call it being present, but back then I didn’t know anything about that. For me, it was a more primal feeling…I felt like a hunter…like a predator. I felt like I was one with the natural world around me. I felt alive.
That’s why I drove with the windows down and the radio blasting. That’s why I was going a bit too fast, and why I was acting a bit too carelessly. That’s why I wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been. That’s why I was breaking the rules by going into town instead of using the safer back roads. Because I felt so alive, so unstoppable…immortal even. Nothing could hurt me, nothing could stop me.
Until something did.
A drunk driver, trying to pass someone coming the other way around a blind curve.
Suddenly, headlights. In my face. I swerve, avoid the head-on collision but get thrown into a spin. Jerking the wheel back the other way to avoid hitting a house. Spinning out of control. Blackness. Nothingness.
And then later, a blinding flash of white light, broken into a million tiny pieces. Those pieces falling away, and reality rising like a tidal wave behind them as they fell. Lots and lots of pain. My leg pinned underneath a tire, my arm crushed against my chest by the front bumper. The fire ants biting me all over my neck and back. Lying in icy mud and water, unable to move. Not breathing properly. The urge to vomit so strong it couldn’t be resisted, and then the smell of the vomit mixed with the muddy water, bathing me, washing in my ears, my nose, my mouth. Spitting it out again, wanting to vomit more, but having to settle for dry heaves instead.
Being scared. Not knowing where I was, or what had happened. Crying out for help and not receiving an answer. Wondering how long it would take someone to find me, or even if they would find me at all. Letting out a primal scream just in case they were searching for me. Struggling against the weight of the car. Willing myself to become strong enough to push it off of me, but failing. Trying to wiggle free from the entrapment. Feeling the circulation being cut off from my hand, wondering if they would have to amputate it.
A friendly voice. Dear God, Jay, what happened? Stay still, the rescue crew is on it’s way. We’ve called your parents, they’re on their way, too. A whispered thank you, and then sliding back into darkness.
Awakened by the sound of the torches cutting me free. Several grown men try to pick up the car, but drop it on top of me again when they slip in the mud. They try to jack the car up, but the jack slips and the car falls on me again. Lots and lots of pain. The tow-truck can’t move the car without ripping me in half. What to do, what to do?
Finally, a plan. A wedge, a forklift, someone pulling me out when someone else yells “Now!” Freedom, at long last. But don’t move! Secure him to the board. Stable, stable! Into the ambulance now, easy!
In the hospital. We can’t help him, his injuries are too severe. We need to send him to a bigger, better hospital. My brother kissing my hand, praying for me. Me telling him that I’m alright, that he’s not lucky enough for me to die. Trying to assure everyone that I’m ok, or that I will be ok. Trying to tell jokes so that people will smile, or at least understand that I’m ok. My mother in tears, my father in tears. A hallway lined with my friends, most of them in tears, too.
Surgery, more pain. A rock embedded in my shoulder blade, which nobody realized was there until after I yelled at them about it. A broken leg, screws going through my skin, through the muscle, through the bone. Cuts and bruises, and a collapsed lung. No spinal damage, no internal bleeding. You’re a very lucky young man.
A long recovery that in some ways is still going on.
Why? What does it mean? Does it mean anything? Or is it nothing, just something that happened once upon a time?
One thing is for sure. I don’t like being cold anymore.
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Wow, wow, wow… I don’t even know what to say, Jay. There aren’t even words to express how wonderful it is that you were able to express yourself through this post. Your words here are so incredibly powerful and moving and I am amazed at every single paragraph. Thank you for writing this. It’s amazing.
positively present´s last blog ..finding hope on the bright side of the road
My wife looked at me after being so proud of being able to set up her iPhone with an RSS feed and said with a stunned look on her face, “Have you read this?”. I stopped working on a spreadsheet for our new biz to coast over to your blog….
Holy shit. And I’m having issues with fear, anger, worries, guilt and all the ego-based BS I can throw at myself. Cheese & Rice Jay (good ol Catholic statement)….
Reality sets in for me, while I become more amazed with who you are, what you’ve done, and who you’re becoming. The spreadsheet suddenly means a lot less (“fug it, just go for it?” races thru my mind), as I realize the lessons I’ve learned and how, and the lessons you’ve learned, and what school you attended.
I’m humbled to be a friend. Get your ass up here sometime.
Great post Jay. Continue following the light brother.
It’s definitely NOT just something that happened once upon a time. It is such a huge part of who you are… and I don’t mean the wheelchair thing, I mean the way you see the world… the way to see people… life.
It was an awful, excruciatingly painful “moment”, and from that point forward, you had a new life… a rebirth. You could have chosen to see the world through bitter, resentful eyes, but opted instead to see the beauty and joy in everything and everyone. You have chosen a beautiful new life, and I’m honored to be a part of it.
Jay,
Why can’t you write a simple Boy Scout post that doesn’t make me cry?
Holy schnikes, hero, I’m spellbound by your courage and fortitude.
I don’t think I’ll ever think of being in the cold in the same manner. I’m continually amazed at your approach to life (telling people jokes in the ER?!?) and your sheer will to look at life with a wink and a smile.
Continue writing, continue telling your stories, continue blessing the world with your experiences. We have a lot to learn from you.
I’m honored to know you, my friend and thank the “almighty” for letting us have you for a few more decades!
Lori´s last blog ..NaNoWriMo—A Writing Experiment
@Dani – Thank *you* for your kind comment. I’m really glad you enjoyed this.
@Terrapin – I’m glad you and the Missus enjoyed this. More importantly, I’m glad that you all are my friends, and that I got a chance to meet you. You’re both some pretty amazing turtles!
@Lisis – You know, I wasn’t even sure why I wrote this tonight, to be honest. It was just something that I felt like I needed to share. But with your comment, it became clear. You’re absolutely right, that moment in time was my “rebirth”, and as such, it laid the foundation of everything that has come since then.
And I’m honored that *you* are a part of this life, too!
@Lori – I’ll try not to make you cry too often.
But in all seriousness, I’m equally amazed at you, and everything you have gone through and accomplished. You keep calling me “hero”, but you really are a hero. I just play one on TV! I’m honored to know you, and I thank the “almighty” for giving me the chance to know you, too!
Jay, I’ve been through two almost-killed-me accidents and I am amazed at how well you’ve been able to handle your experience.
After my first accident I immediately would get full blown, major panic attacks if I was ever driving anywhere NEAR a semi on the highway. I don’t know why they call them panic attacks either because I was honestly downright TERRIFIED.
I can tell you that time does help fade the terror and pain. Now I’m only “highly uncomfortable” around semi’s. It’s a huge improvement.
Hayden Tompkins´s last blog ..How to Sabotage Your Income
It’s hard to type through tears, but I’m going to try. You have a very strong spirit. Like a warrior. You have been through things that most people could not handle and you survived. You chose to stay earthbound for a reason. I feel so honored to know some of your “story”. I am a stronger person today because of your strength. Do what Terrapin Flyer says and keep following the light.
I hope that you can embrace the cold again in your life. Anything that makes you feel like this,
“I loved the way it cleared my sinuses and allowed me to breathe deeply, and how it sharpened my vision. I loved how I could hear better, smell better, see better…the cold made all of my sensory inputs stronger in a way that is hard to explain.”
needs to be felt again.
Jill´s last blog ..What I’m grateful for today
Hi Jay, this is one of those post that make me glad I subscribed to your blog. I, being from a very warm island, love the kind of coldness that you used to love. Perhaps, when you feel strong enough, you could remember what coldness used to mean, perhaps in a long walk in a Amish farm, away from trucks
Miguel de Luis´s last blog ..Applied to join the Church of the Larger Fellowship
@Hayden – Well, this happened a long, long time ago, 17 years to be exact, so I’ve had lots of time to process it and get over it. You’re right, it does take a long time before you can trust yourself and feel comfortable with the circumstances around your accident. It was a good 6 months before I could drive again, psychologically speaking, and I still get a little nervous whenever I see that curve where the accident happened.
@Jill – Thank you for the compliments, Jill. I am a stronger person because of you, too. And yes, I will keep following the light.
As for the cold…I don’t know if I’ll ever enjoy that quite the same way, but there are other things that make me come alive, and I enjoy them.
@Miguel – A long walk around an Amish farm sounds like a great way to spend an afternoon! It is true that there is a certain stillness, a peace in nature that can help rejuvenate us. I miss that, living in the city.
“Does it mean anything?” How can it not? We’re shaped by everything in our lives, and in this one you were taken to an edge, an abyss, that most people never face, right? This is the source of your depth, or at least triggered your awareness of your depth, right? I know that depth – of feeling, of awareness, or empathy – doesn’t always feel like a gift (ignorance is bliss and all that – believe me, I often feel this way) – but it is, it is. It’s the same depth that lets you be transported when you see a beautiful flower or sunset, while others just walk on by. It cuts both ways.
Not sure I’m making sense, but moving post…
Lisa (mommymystic)´s last blog ..Chakra Immunity Boost For You and Your Kids
I got goose pimples reading this Jay! Amazing post and great to get to know you through your writing, really inspiring.
Jen
Jay,
Reading this seems almost surreal. Like I’m there with you, and I can see you – yet it’s not real. And it’s so, so moving. And at the same time, painful to read. And process, maybe even more. Your spirit is strong Jay, and like Lisa has said – we are shaped by all of our life experiences, whatever they are. This is one of those moments that goes even deeper, I’m sure.
So, Jay – your story is one that’s is both hard to read – for the shear pain I felt for you in that moment – and yet also so, so good to read – for the reminder of moments in our lives, and how they become a part of us…
Thank you, my friend, for writing…
Lance´s last blog ..Escaping Adulthood
@Lisa – You make perfect sense! Without knowing the lows, we can’t really appreciate the highs, and sometimes you have to lose it all (or almost lose it all) to appreciate what life can be. Makes good, good sense to me.
@Jen – Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed the post, and I look forward to seeing you around here more often!
@Lance – I’m glad you found it moving, even if a bit painful. And yes, it’s always good to remind ourselves of the moments that affect our lives and become a part of us. Thanks so much for reading, and understanding.
Hi Jay,
This was such a moving post and brought up so many thoughts and emotions. I cannot find the right words to describe the feeling so I won’t even try. Things happen for reasons we may never know or even understand. So whatever does not kill us, only makes us stronger and the truth of that saying definitely applies to you. Namaste!
Nadia – Happy Lotus´s last blog ..Are You An Angry Talk Show Or A Romantic Comedy?
Hi Jay – A really powerful story. Thanks for sharing this. We can never know what’s going to happen – one moment to the next. I guess we just have to do the best with what we get.
Amanda Linehan´s last blog ..Breathe
Incredibly and beautifully written Jay… What a nightmare to go through. The pain you endured…I could not imagine. You are teaching us an important lesson here and I thank you for sharing this today.
P.S. I don’t like the cold anymore either
Caroline´s last blog ..Treasure
That was painful to read. I have a fear of getting into a car accident for the very reasons you posted. When you said your recovery was still going on, I wasn’t sure if you meant emotionally or physically. But in my experience, emotional recovery from traumatic experiences is usually longer and more difficult to deal with. I wish you well on your continued recovery and thanks for the great post.
Christine´s last blog ..Nondualism and A Course in Miracles
@Nadia – If nothing else, that night set me on my spiritual path…and that makes it worth it.
@Amanda – That’s true, we never know what the future holds, so it’s always good to be thankful for the present moment.
@Caroline – Thank you for the compliments. It was a nightmare, but thankfully one that ended, and I grew up a lot that night and became an almost completely different person…a much better person…so it was definitely worth the pain.
@Christine – The recovery is still going on physically and emotionally. Physically, because I have a broken leg that never healed properly, and emotionally, because it changed me so much and I’m still a little unsure of all the ways it affected me.
Jay,
Wow this is very moving and only you can know what it means. I agree with Nadia we don’t always and may never know what anything is for.
I have a daughter who was born without most of her right hand. She’s 33 now and participates in triathlons and has her own very successful business. She has taught each of us so many things we wouldn’t otherwise know or be a witness too.
Thanks for sharing and like Lance says they are a reminder of our own moments and how they’ve shaped us.
Tess The Bold Life´s last blog ..There Is Nothing To Fear
Jay, I appreciate your powerful post and the transparency with which you shared it. Such a journey, such pain, sorrow, and loss that you have had to live through! Like Nadia and Lisa, I believe that everything which happens to us forms the sum of who we are. Even the hard stuff. Especially the hard stuff.
Knowing this does not make it much easier, but it can put suffering in perspective. It also softens us toward ourselves and others. That is what I hear in your voice—a softness—in wondering how and why life is what it is. I’m also pretty sure that this softness has translated into compassion for other beings. (Yes!)
May you continue to grow through your pain, allowing it to transform you. You are a remarkable human being and, in truth, sometimes suffering makes us so. I mourn your losses and celebrate your victories. Believe, breathe, and be well.
Glad to see a new post. This was powerfully written. I felt like I was there. I think people tell this kind of story for the same reason I felt the urge to tell everyone I met over and over about how I broke my ankle — it’s something so out of the norm, so life-changing (whether temporarily or permanently), that we keep trying to make sense of it and where it fits into who we are.
@Tess – Thanks for sharing the connection with your daughter. People often tell me that they think about things differently after meeting me, or that they think about things that had never occurred to them before. If there is any “upside” to being disabled, it’s that people are taught compassion.
@Jan – Yes, the accident taught me a lot about compassion…and a lot about humility and grace, too. It also taught me to be more appreciative of life and the things I have, and to not focus so much on the negative.
@Dot – Yeah, I think you’re right. it’s just so out of the ordinary that I keep trying to make sense of where it fits into my self-image and my being. It’s such a huge part of who I am now, versus who I was before it happened, it’s almost like a rebirth.
Jay, What an experience! It is obvious your spirit and attitude have brought you through much! I doubt this is something you will forget. It could prove valuable to you in some way to either let you know how strong you are, or to help someone else who perhaps is going thru worse – we never know why these things happen.
I hope that you found some healing in the writing of it. Although I’ve not shared my stories, I’ve written about some awful experiences and in a weird way it was cathartic, as if it put distance to it. It ocurrs to me we all healing from something, don’t you think? At any rate, survivors need to hang out with survivors. I’m honored to be in your company, survivor friend.
Hugs
suzen
suzen´s last blog ..Monkey See, Monkey Do
Jay:
Wow, all I can say is that this is an amazing, moving post. I agree with several commenters ahead of me in that I don’t really know what to say. I admire you for your ability to recall all of this and can understand that this is an incident that you cannot easily recover from. I know it has shaped you as a person in many ways- and it is interesting to read from your comments that you became a better more compassionate person. Thank you for sharing this story.
Tim´s last blog ..Weekend Video Diversion: Improv Everywhere
Holy crap, Jay… 8:42 in the morning, and I’m just frozen here (good word? not sure) by your story. I can’t imagine… Wouldn’t want to imagine, and yet I saw it all. Part of me wants to ask if you ever have nightmares or traumatic (paralyzing) recollections of that night? Part of me simply hopes not, and that drawing this together was tough enough — based on what you think you remember and not what you still live with in your cell memory.
Man… I’m just glad you’re here still. And I trust that you’re here, having survived THAT, because it is all interconnected. I believe you’ll see HOW in the very near future.
Why, indeed.
~ Love to you, my friend ~ And gladness
Megan “JoyGirl!” Bord´s last blog ..A Study in Sibling Reverie
@Suzen – I think there was some healing that come in the writing of it. It might be too early to tell yet, but I definitely feel like I released a part of it by writing this blog post. If nothing else, I was able to validate the experience for myself, and that always helps.
@Tim – Thanks for your kind comments, Tim. Yes, it has shaped me into a more compassionate person, and I am thankful for that.
@Megan – No, I no longer have nightmares or traumatic memories based on this. I did for a while, but they faded shortly after I started driving again. There’s truth in the sentiment that says you have to get back up on the horse as soon as possible
I still remember it vividly, though…just not traumatically, if that makes sense.
And I’m glad that I’m still here, too, because it means that I got to meet you and so many other awesome people who have enriched my life.
hey jay.
wow.
amazing story. incredibly written and honest and heartfelt.
my mom runs a foundation for people recovering from serious injury and illness. she broke her back when she fell off the balcony (i was on it and watched her fall) a few years back. always look back on it as the day i grew up… so i’m around it all day, injury and situations like this.
but you can tell – you can tell by your writing that you’re one of those that fights, not just to recover but in life. not fights. that’s the wrong word. used too much and too negative. but you have faith in life. that you’ll make it.
and THAT’S inspiring.
alex – unleash reality
What a funny way to re-find your blog. At a certain point, I had read you once. And then I googled something and found your blog again.
I am an aspiring songwriter myself and love music like I need air. I have been reading your poetry and song lyrics. They are beautiful. Thank you for sharing through this blog.
Keep filling the world (wide web) with your poetry.
Jewel/Pink Ink´s last blog ..Yes! We Have No Cats Today
@Alex – Thanks! I really appreciate the compliments. That’s great work that your mom does, I’d like to get involved with something like that, I think.
@Jewel – Thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed the poetry and song lyrics. I have a lot more, but it takes time to get them transferred from notebooks to computer files. Rest assured, I’ll keep posting as long as people keep reading!
Of course, part of this is a story of your personal growth and strength. And, what I found myself really noticing is that this is some high quality writing. Very concise and compelling ending sentence. I find myself wanting to read more of your autobiography or fiction.
Hey Jay,
Thanks for sharing this… your story is incredible, well written and touching. And terrifying. Bravo for the courage to share it
Hi Jay
Wow, I thought it was going to be a “lighter” story, then I thought I was going to make it without any tears, but by the end a few swelled up in my eyes without me being able to do much about them.
Wow… that is some experience. I cannot tell you what it means, but I know it means a lot. It was an experience that came to make you into the person you are today and will become as you go through this life.
It came to awaken others. Just by reading your story here, do you realize how many people will be driving more carefully today?
I know many would call this some kind of a tragedy, but I truly see a gift here as in every other situation in this world.
So all I will finish with is saying a huge thank you for sharing this story with the world. Together we grow. Together we learn. Together we become more present, more loving and more aware of the greater all that is around us always.
Evita´s last blog ..14 Things I Can’t Live Without
@Chris – Thank you for your compliment about my writing! I think writing professionally is the next step for me. I have a few ideas for a non-fiction book on spirituality, and I also have a lot of fiction story ideas floating around that I’d like to flesh out and publish…even if it’s only self-publishing on the web.
@Karen – I’m glad you liked it, and could feel all the things that I felt that night. Thank you for reading, and sharing it.
@Evita – I never thought about the more immediate implications…such as people driving more slowly and carefully. I *do* hope that a lot of that goes on because of this story. I also hope it will help people be more present, more aware when they drive. I think a lot of accidents happen because people just aren’t paying attention to what they are doing.
And yes, this experience definitely helped shape the person I am today. It’s one of the defining moments of my life. If nothing else, it set me on my spiritual path, and that would make it worth it, even if no other good ever came from it.
Hi Jay, I read this night you posted it and cried a good, long cry. It’s so vivid, and it brought up so many things. I wanted to come back and comment, but I couldn’t for a while.
When I read this, I cried because you are alive, because what you’ve written here, though a painful experience, is beautiful, and because you are able to touch so many people. I cried because when I was in high school and feeling so alive and invincible, too, a drunk driver struck my brother. We were a year apart. I remember joking to a friend while I was at home and my parents were at the hospital that he probably had two broken legs and we’d have to wait on him for a while. I went to sleep that night and awoke at 2am to a strange feeling. I went downstairs and every neighbor I knew and every relative I had were there at my house, in the dark, in small groups, in corners and on sofas, softly sobbing. My parents were hugging and crying. My brother didn’t make it. He was never coming home again.
That day changed the course of our lives forever. My parents lost a child. I lost my sibling, my brother, my mirror image that reflected back to me all the things I was, all the things I had been, and all I wanted to be. For a long time after that, I looked in the mirror and didn’t know who I was. I had lost a big piece of my life and myself. We all did.
He was a beautiful being that blessed us for a short time, whose life with us and whose parting changed the course of ours forever. A very different path began for all of us at that time, one none of us were expecting or were ready for. It hasn’t been easy, but for me it has been a spiritual journey, one I may not have taken otherwise.
The meaning in life was gone for a while without him. He would have been around your age. But slowly, over time, meaning came back, in small, different, yet significant ways, that I may never have discovered before. So as I sit here and look at Porsidan, I see a wonderful creation, consciously crafted by a beautiful being who shares so honestly of himself, and I appreciate it even more. I look at your picture, and I see Jay, alive, a light, a miracle. Open and caring, real, and among us. And I am overwhelmed with feelings of gratefulness… for so many things, beyond words.
Miche Heredia´s last blog ..There Is No Such Place As Stuck
@Miche – That’s really beautiful,and stunning. I think that’s probably the best comment ever left on a blog, worthy of a blog post all it’s own. Thank you for your kind words about me, and my blog. but more importantly, thank you for sharing that story with us. I’m very sorry for the loss of your brother. If he was anything like you are, I would love to have known him.
I don’t know what else to say. This comment is just so powerful and moving…thank you for leaving it, and thank you for being *you*. You are wonderful.
Hello from Russia!
Can I quote a post in your blog with the link to you?
I’ve been traveling, and behind on my reading. But I read this post and I sit in stunned silence. You asked “why” and I’m thinking right now, one possible reason is that, in your telling your story, part of your unsinkability has reached through cyberspace and around the world to touch — I mean REALLY TOUCH — whoever reads the post.
OK maybe I’m not so silent, but I AM stunned. And awed. Thanks for sharing and for touching!
Damn it Jay. You made me cry! I never cry! Never!
And you made me.
Perhaps because I know you a little. Perhaps because I don’t know you as well as I’d like to. Perhaps because we’re all connected in some way to this memory.
This is a simply stunning piece of writing.
Ian | Quantum Learning´s last blog ..A World Where Conflicts Are Solved Peacefully
@Polprov – Sure thing. Be my guest.
@Jeanne – Thank you for your kind words. I’m glad you enjoyed my writing, and I’m glad that it touched you.
@Ian – lol, don’t feel bad. I have that effect on lots of people
It’s a good thing, from what I’ve heard. And also, thank you for your compliment on my writing. Hopefully I can keep it up!
holy shit and Shiva, that was so moving. I’m so glad you wrote this. My husband is a Fire Fighter, I think of all the lives he intersects with. All the crises that go unnamed and unfollowed. I always wondered about your story…thanks.
@Danielle – Yep, that’s my story. One of them, anyway
Tell your husband thanks from me..on behalf of everyone he’s ever saved on nights like this. People like him are true heroes, and I owe my life to them.
Wow. I wasn’t expecting an indirect link from Slashdot to lead me here, but I’m glad it did. Evocative, vivid, frightening, moving. An excellent post which brought tears to my eyes.
Thank you.
@Jim – Thank you, I’m glad it spoke to you. I look forward to seeing you around here more often now!
Wonderfully detailed description! What a terrible accident. You put into words what most people just block out and never return to. You would probably be great in counseling people that are trying to recover from horrible accidents.
@Lena – Thank you for the compliments. That’s actually something that I have thought about getting into…recovery counseling or grief counseling. I’ll keep you posted
Jay, you have rendered me speechless. Your story, the way you shared it… The import of it… You brought me to your side and kept me there throughout everything that occurred. Masterful writing of an experience that simply defies words. This pivotal time in your life was assuredly far, far larger than even the best writing can describe, yet you give us a glimpse of understanding of what it must have meant for you. Thank you so much for sharing.
Julie´s last blog ..Simply Divine
@Julie – Thank *you* for the kind words! I am so glad that you were touched by my writing, and that you found value in my words. Coming from you, the praise of my writing is high praise, indeed.
POWERFUL!!!!!!! You captured me at the beginning because yes I completely know that feeling of being cold outside and loving it. Once you capture an experience that people can relate to we want to read more. This is wonderful writing!
@Lori – I’m glad you enjoyed it. Thank you for the compliments, I hope to see you around here more often!
Oh wow! This is an amazing article. I could almost feel the cold of the night and see through your eyes. Very moving.
JACQUI JONES´s last blog ..Cultivating Gratitude