We kicked off the new year with a few hours of quiet country driving in order to spend time with family.
As the afternoon came to a close, we said our goodbyes and see-you-next-times before dispersing to various roads and towns.
After the prairie sunset had faded into darkness, I received a text from my mom from the side of a dark road in which she had just witnessed a head on collision.
With each update, I was grateful that she was alive to text me. And with each update, we drew closer to the conclusion that a fatality had occurred; that the beginning of a new year had resulted in the end of a life.
As my family continued to drive in the darkness, the oncoming headlights were a visual reminder of how fragile life is. And how with one quick slip of the wheel, it can come to an end.
Someone’s life ended today on a dark, midwestern road. Someone slammed the door of a car and set out for their final destination without even realizing it – because the final destination called death cannot be predicted.
For the deceased’s loved ones, January 1 will no longer signal a beginning, it will instead symbolize and ending.
So may be we grateful for these middle days – the space between our beginning and our end.
For each sunrise. For each morning wake-up call. For each sound of the dreaded morning alarm. For each trip from the bed to the coffee pot. For each morning rush.
For the beginning of each new day.
Because we might not be given the chance to see the end of it.
Because the hello might be the last one.
Because there might not be a next time.