It was a morning just like any other. The
alarm rang on my phone at 6:45 AM. I turned it off, rolled over, and went back
to sleep. Five minutes later, I reached for my computer, eyes still closed, and
turned on a Lady Gaga song to motivate me out of bed. Annimal was already
awake, sitting upright in her bed, entranced by her phone. I opened my eyes,
read a few emails I had received overnight, and finally got up to get ready for
a long day of walking. We were scheduled to be in Nanjing that evening, meaning
we had 25 kilometers to cover before sundown. We packed our things and drank
coffee as Lady Gaga music videos played in the background. The last item to go
into my bag was my computer, but I paused to check my Facebook and say hello to
the world before departing. I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. As I scrolled
through my newsfeed, I noticed that a few people had shared a story from my
hometown’s news site. “7
Farmington Schools elementary students injured in bus crash” was the title. The subtitle disclosed that the crash
had taken place in Red Valley, Arizona.
“That’s weird.” I thought. “My mom also went on a field trip to Arizona
today.”
Holy shit.
I read on.
“33 students
and two adults were on the bus that turned over, according to Navajo police….A
second bus, which did not roll over, took more students to the San Juan
Regional Medical Center as a precaution. The second bus did not appear to be
involved in the crash.”
Which bus was she on? WHICH FUCKING BUS WAS MY MOM ON?!
I searched
through my backpack for my American cell phone and impatiently waited for it to
connect to wifi. My heart was beating out of my chest as I tried to calm it
with rationale.
She’s probably fine. It’s 50/50. She could have been on
the other bus. She was probably on the other bus.
Minutes felt
like hours as I waited for my phone to connect to wifi so that I could make the
call to America to hear that my mom was fine.
Finally, the
call went through. My dad answered.
“Hello?”
“Hey! Dad,
what’s happening?”
“Who is
this?” He sounded flustered.
“Dad, it’s
Darrah. What’s going on? Is Mom ok?”
“Well, your
mom was in an accident. Their bus rolled over. We’ve just been to Shiprock
hospital, but they sent us to Farmington. We’re heading there now. The kids are
fine.” he said. Hot, heavy tears started rolling down my face. My heart broke
into pieces and a loud sob came from deep in my stomach. Ann, unaware of what
was happening, put her hand on my shoulder.
“Is she ok?”
I asked, hopeful and terrified of the answer.
“She’s ok.
Her right ear was cut off and she’s sore and bruised, but she’s okay. We’re
going to Farmington to see a plastic surgeon about her ear.”
In that
moment, I felt life full-on. Emotions rushed through me. I was so relieved that
my mom was alive. I was so angry that this happened. I was so glad that the
children were ok. I was so sad that my precious mother was injured. I said
goodbye and spent the next few hours talking to people in America over Facebook.
Kelly who lives next door to my parents offered to feed Kai, our dog. Emma in
Fort Collins offered to try to find my brother, who wasn’t answering his phone.
Lots of people offered help and condolences. After business on the home front
was taken care of, I put my computer in my bag and we started walking. I knew
that I couldn’t stop the flow of tears down my face, but I could start walking.
We walked and I cried all morning until I heard the news that my mom’s surgery
had gone ok and she was spending the night in the hospital. I finally got ahold
of my brother and he told me to be strong. The worst was over and all was well.
Thank goodness.
That evening
we made it to Nanjing. We checked out the first hotel, a grimy place with the bathroom
enclosed by glass walls. No thank you. We walked to three more hotels that
refused to take a foreigner. After the fourth hotel we were exhausted and it
was late. We called Bill and Karen, our Nanjing friends, to rescue us. We
weren’t planning on visiting them for a few days, but these were desperate
times. They took us out to dinner and set us up in their guest room. I slept
for a few hours, then got up to Skype my mom, who was supposed to be released
from the hospital that afternoon (our morningtime). She looked like hell. Her
face was swollen, eyes and jaw cut and bruised. Her head and ear were wrapped
in guaze like a civil war patient. Despite this, she tried to appear chipper.
Maybe she was trying to make me feel better. Maybe it was the morphine. We
talked and I cried……like a baby. I was so relieved to see that she was alive,
and so heartbroken to see her that way.
As I lied
curled up on the couch in the fetal position, Bill went off to work and
There are
lots of lessons that come from a scare like this one. Love each other every
day. Tell your people how much you love them. Don’t worry about the petty shit.
Life is short; carpe diem; seize the carp.
This trip is
as much about empowerment as it is about love. Even though I feel a million
miles away from home this week, I’d like to think that this experience has
brought my family closer. Inspired by my mother’s brush with death, I encourage
you all to spread some love today. Call someone and say “I love you”. Why are
you still reading? Do it now.
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