The Beginning

It's an average Sunday.  I'm sure I did some laundry, played with my kids, probably read some books, and checked my email.  These parts of the day I don't recall.  My children are ages 2 1/2, a girl and 6 1/2, a boy. At about seven in the evening, the phone rings. A woman identifies herself as a social worker at the hospital.  She informs me that my parents have been hit by a car and would like me to come to the hospital. My only question was, were they in a car?  The answer was simply no. I thanked her and hung up.

I called me sister and we decided we would both head over to the hospital to see what was up. My young two year old nursling would accompany me. 

At the hospital, it became clear that while the accident was not the worst case senario, it was far from the best. I met my sister in the hall and she looked upset. I asked if they were broken and bloody and she said yes;  we hugged. What I would later learn is that there had been a multiple car accident involving a missed red light.  The van which struck them was out of control.  My parents both had multiple broken bones, abrasions, and head wounds. It would be a long recovery.