Alittle Tale

       Today I want to tell alittle tale. I needed some perspective.

       Last fall, the family was headed up to the wind us down from the camping season, final camping trip. Our place of choice was a high alpine lakes, the type you can only go to during August, early September, because there is still snow there in July. There are two ways into this wilderness. A long route, and a short cut. The long route takes an extra 2 hours, the short cut is up a incredibly steep back country road. The short cut is steep as hell, with your complimentary cliff on one side for about 40 miles of rutted dirt road.

       We had agreed when we left town, we would take the long route. No one enjoys the   8% downgrades, sometimes even steeper then 8%, and 1000 foot drop off, it's really tough on your trucks, etcplus throw in the white knuckled stance you must take........But when we came along to the opening into no return hell road short cut, my darling Father pulled off the road. I pulled up next to him and he called out he decided it wouldn't be bad, we could save the time. You know, Men and their short cuts.

       My parents were driving their truck and pulling a 18 foot camper trailer, I myself was in my Tahoe, with my girls following. Going up the Mountain was slow go, but we managed fine. It wasn't the first time we've driven this pass, but I can say now, it was the last. When we finally got to the top of the summit my father pulled over and gave me specific instruction to keep my Tahoe in low gear, stay off my brakes and I would be fine going down. Great, here we go, bring on the cliff I said. I personally think someone had a sick sense of humor going on to create a road on this monster of a mountain.

       After what felt like forever creeping down this road, following my parents, in a split second everything changed. Ahead of me, in the blink of an eye, my fathers entire truck and trailer was crashing into the side of the mountain. You must understand here, there is mountain on one side of this here road, cliff on the other......It's amazing what comes to mind in micro seconds of life. When he hit the mountain the first time, in the cloud of dust and flying debris I saw one of their dogs go flying out a window onto the mountainside.
      
       But the truck didn't stop, it kept going. I instantly knew something was horribly wrong. My parents cater to those dogs like children, and if one was ejected out the window, they would have stopped immediately and called in life flight if it was hurt. In that first brief second I slammed on my brakes, but when the truck went careening down the mountain, I stepped on the gas to keep up.

       What followed was watching my parents repeatedly hit the mountainside with their truck and trailer, slamming tree's, taking out boulders and slices of mountain over and over. What I wasn't privy to was the fact that the trucks brake system had suffered a total and complete overheat meltdown. Brakes were obsolete. My father was trying to use the mountainside to slow down the truck that was starting to speed out of control. My mother was inside pleading to wreck into the mountain, anything, but going over the cliff.

       My Father did indeed wreck, he put his truck head on into a culvert of sorts, the last chance before encountering a nasty turn they would have never made with that kind of speed.

       I wish I could say I was praying the entire 20 seconds or so this went on, or pleading for their safety, or saying something life changing profound. But my darling children tell the story of their Mother chasing an out of control truck chanting the "F" word over and over with a few "Oh" and "Holy" fillers in between. It was the sickest thing I've ever had to watch in my life to date.

       My parents lived, other then bumps and bruises, they were ok, the dog even lived, the truck even somewhat lived, the short cut? Didn't turn out so short after all.

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       I go back to that story because it seems this fall was the start of life perspective outlooks. That was the first defining moment, the first slap to my face to stop wasting this life of mine with settling and accepting what is unacceptable. You can bury your head in the sand for so long, and maybe it takes something like this for a person to peek around and realize.

       It wasn't long after that, that my Aunt and Mother were both diagnosed with breast cancer. Slap, slap. It was also during this time that I began writing again. The need seemed pretty overwhelming to release all the thoughts that had been begging to get out for a long time. I'd learned how to quiet those voices, to temper the urge to write. When you bury your head in the sand, you lose sight of what's going on around you with beautiful isolation.

       When you find yourself so deep into something, or someone, it's a process of sorting. You sort away that which makes them unhappy. You remove yourself from friends or family that push the envelope, speak in truth tones and confuse the situation even worse then it already is.

       And the Mother said to her daughter, "Who are you anymore, because this isn't the daughter I brought into this world."

       Maybe it took a few slaps to wake me up from the isolation that had grown like tangled vines around me. Actually, I know it did. It saddens me that life can put such blinders on like that, to the point you deny what is truth and accept what is wrong. Did I recognize the loss as it was progressing, yes, I did. Did I fight it, yes I did, at first. But guilt and manipulation can guilt even the most rational thoughts.

       I should have known it wouldn't be easy to make a change. Nothing worth fighting for is right?