I know terrible things have happened to good people for as long as good people have been around to have terrible things happen to them.
Before 2007 I didn’t know anyone with a special needs child, I certainly didn’t know anyone who had lost a child. I didn’t even know anyone who had experienced a miscarriage aside from my mom (which had she not had a miscarriage, I wouldn’t be here.) Hell, I’m not even sure I knew a Jewish person. (Oh Utah…)
Three years later and it’s safe to say those above statements have changed.
I worry a lot more than I used to. I’ve watched my friends get really sick, have surgery, get in accidents, lose babies, lose spouses, lose houses, experience natural disasters and even lose everything they own.
The possibility of horrible things happening probably isn’t a whole lot higher than it was three years ago, but my awareness is higher, I listen for that other shoe a lot more than I used to.
However, the world has become a lot smaller since I started living some of it online. I almost wonder if google has seen a drop in use as social social media rises. Real people (often strangers) talking to each other online. Telling their stories. Within 24 hours of posting about Addie’s CVS someone told me about another mom in a completely different part of the country who’s son has the same condition.
It’s one thing to read a medical article about your child’s sickness, it’s a completely different thing to email a real person and share battle stories of catching vomit midair.
If I were to get in my car and drive right now I could end up at a friends house no matter what direction I drove in or how long I drove for. If something were to happen to my family I would have real people to talk to. Real people who have been there and lived to tell the tale. (road trip!)
Would I rather go back to living in my safe little bubble where bad things only happen in the newspaper? No. Because I wouldn’t have you and your unending (and sometimes useless) knowledge.
Very few people hear a shoe drop in a bubble, leaving one feeling alone and vulnerable.
And alone is a horrible place to be.
I’m so happy right here with you. No matter what.
(Also, are shoe fixers still called cobblers? Or should I get my nose out of fairy tales and into 2010 vernacular?)