What- ifs, and why they do not matter, and why I am happy about that.

Every Thanksgiving when I boggle my brain for a bulletpointed list of things for which to be thankful, I find that I end up with the same basic structure:

• God's Love, Grace, Mercy, Justice, Compassion
• My family (this normally leads to many more bulletpoints because of the size of my family, but I will not give each one of you a point here. Know that I do in my heart, though.)
• My friends (see above parenthetical element)
• Music
• Books (this one varies year to year; this season I am particularly grateful for one P.G. Wodehouse.)
• Trees
• History
• The Sky
• Christmas lights
• the New York Yanks (also the Indianapolis Colts)

And so on and so forth. There are always more things, but these have permanent residence.

As a history major, I know why Thanksgiving is in November; but as an English major I wonder sometimes why it is not in June. It is so easy to be thankful in June, when the world is green and the weather is mild. When every day is a blessing we do not have to be reminded to enjoy it. And so as an English major I think it is good that Thanksgiving is when it is. Somehow I appreciate Thanksgiving more when it comes in November, that month when the year realizes it is aging, and grumbles about it. We need to be reminded to be thankful in November, when the wind cuts through you and the rain has forgotten how to be gentle.

We need Thanksgivings more often than national holidays provide, though, and I am having a Thanksgiving of my own tonight.

I almost died tonight, and as a result the Thanksgiving list above has a richer meaning right now than it ever has before. I never liked melodrama in writing-- in storytelling it can be used for humour, so I allow it there, but I generally try to avoid it in my scribblings. So I am sorry if my statement sounds hyperbolic to you, but it is the literal truth. I almost died tonight. Three of my dearest friends in the world nearly went with me.

Without rehashing the whole story (which I already got to do in the police report-- DEE-lightful), I had to drag my friends out of the path of an out-of-control vehicle that came within two feet of mowing us down, potentially ending a life or four. I had to look through the partially open window to see if there was any blood on the slumped body in the driver's seat, and I had to stay calm and coherent to answer the (seemingly endless) questions of the police dispatcher. I had to do things I have only ever seen before on TV, things which I never actually thought I would have to do.

The oddest part was the deafness. I don't remember hearing anything after the crash of the car as it rammed a parked van before careening towards us. I heard the crash, and then-- I don't remember hearing anything until the car slammed into a railing and the scritch-scratch of the windshield wipers echoed in my ears. The second thing I remember hearing was the voices of my friends, all calling on God's name.

There was no time to throw up a prayer, no time for anything but instictive, animal reaction. Victoria dragged Ashlea and I dragged Vic and Kara just ran. I wasn't thinking, I was just responding. The paramedics, et al., arrived promptly, and after filling out the above-mentioned report, we spent a few hours at Vic's house with comforting grown-ups and chocolate-covered blueberries.

Ok, so I practically did rehash the whole thing...I could've made it much longer, though, so I consider that I acted with restraint.

I just found one of those blueberries in my coat pocket. I ate it.

Anyway, the revised Thanksgiving list, per my experience with the Hurtling Car of Doom:

• Everything listed before
• Reflexes
• Friendly police officers
• The intact lives of Kara, Ashlea, and Victoria
• Chocolate-covered blueberries

I suppose what has been haunting me ever since is how differently everything could have turned out. What if we had started walking a minute earlier? We would have been right by the van and would have had no time to react. What if we hadn't been linking arms as walked? We would not have had the added strength of each other to make it the final foot away from the vehicle.

But we did. We did.

And so the what-ifs do not matter. They do not matter because they did not happen. I am thankful that they no longer matter. During those eternal ten seconds they mattered very much. But time passes (this is a seldom-observed habit of Time's) and now those what-ifs are dead--that is, they have only the power to haunt. And that only as long as I let them. I am thankful for all of the unseen, little, unobtrusive what-ifs that do not occur every day. I am thankful for the hand of God.

And I say it again, I am thankful for each and every one of you who read this. I don't actually know who reads this so I can't make it more personal. But if you comment and tell me I will at least THINK of all the reasons I am thankful for you, in particular. Promise.