Safe Travels y'all: A Christmas memory
Steve and I were headed to my parents’ lake house in Scott, AR, on Christmas day 2007. The lake may seem like an odd choice for holiday festivities, but it truly is gorgeous. And my dad is the Clark Griswold of dock lights. Well… if Clark only had one strand of those big colorful lights and an oversized faded red bow.
The lake is beautiful all year, but even more serene in the winter months. There are no boats cutting through the water, the banks are covered in leaves and Christmas lights reflect like sparkles on the glass surface. It’s delta magic.
Old River lake is an ox-bow lake off of the Arkansas river. It borders the delta, so there is rarely snow. The drive to Scott is peppered with blue-collar businesses, one very popular hamburger restaurant that is literally falling into the bayou, stray dogs, shacks and plantations. The road is a long, flat two-lane number.
It’s easy to miss your turn because there aren’t a lot of visual markers. Our turn is at the old cotton mill, but we missed it because we were busy talking about Meme’s sausage and egg breakfast casserole and Aunt Loraine’s Christmas Kringle. She orders that Kringle from Denmark every year and Meme stays up late after Christmas Eve candle-light service at Grace Lutheran to prepare her yummy casserole. Seriously good Christmas morning food y’all.
It was a couple minutes into the conversation that I realized we had missed the turn, but luckily there was a house with a circle drive just ahead on the left, so I put on my signal and…
“We’re okay. We’re okay. We’re okay.”
I remember hearing tires screeching and then hearing Steve saying this over and over and over again.
I don’t remember getting hit at all, and I must’ve closed my eyes immediately because I didn’t see anything.
Apparently, just as I turned left (and, yes, I slowed down AND used a turn signal, Mother) a guy in a very big hurry driving a Jaguar decided to pass on a double yellow. He t-boned the company-issued minivan I was driving and sent us rolling a couple times over.
We didn’t have little Charlie yet. It was just me, Steve and Oosha, our oldest fluffy white (and now slightly traumatized) Bichon Frise.
None of us were hurt, but we all spent the day in ER getting checked out instead of eating yummy Christmas breakfast.
The other driver didn’t fare so well for his Christmas driving spectacular. Just after the accident, while several local men were helping me climb out of the minivan Steve was helping the driver of the other car whose arm was so badly broken it was as if he had a new joint between his elbow and his wrist. Yuck!
So instead of eating sausage egg casserole and danish Kringle I was getting x-rays and watching busy nurses and doctors go about their day.
I can’t say this is a favorite Christmas memory, but it is an interesting one, and we walked away feeling incredibly grateful.
Grateful for healthy, uninjured bodies.
Grateful for doctors and nurses who work on Christmas day.
And grateful that Meme saved us some yummy Christmas treats.
This reminds me… I want a new car.
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