The Sound of Silence.
An ordinary day.
Imagine — you’re driving down the road. Slowly. In traffic. Going about 5–10 miles per hour in a rented RV.
Maybe you’re thinking about the shopping you need to do for the picnic lunch you have planned?… Maybe you’re focusing on the other cars? Maybe you’re daydreaming about the vacation you’re on and what other fun things the day will hold?
And all of a sudden, your big, hulking rv clips the edge of a barrier… you’d imagine a mighty scratch on the side as you continue obliviously on your way — as you slowly move ahead with the corner of your vehicle scratching that edge of the barrier. You’d be clueless perhaps — except for a sound as you slowly scratch your vehicle on the corner you’ve hit.
What you would not imagine
What you would not imagine is complete silence. You would not imagine while you were driving slowly, on a relatively quiet road, with no music on, and no one speaking in the RV — that this minor collision would be without any sound.
You’d probably not imagine complete and utter silence. You would hear the scratch…
Cement on metal — you’d hear something? Right?
Silence.
If you clipped the corner of the barrier, and your vehicle was not scratched — and you heard nothing — you’d be none the wiser. Your day would continue as planned, sites would be visited, children would be fed, obligatory photos would be taken…
However…
In the silence, if rather than a scratch, this slight contact with the corner was not, in fact leaving a mark on your vehicle but rather pulling apart the entire structure of the RV you would hear metal on metal.
If you were sitting right next to a wall being ripped off its foundation, destabilizing the entire unit there would be crashing and horrific sounds as an expensive vehicle was being torn to shreds.
You’d hear something if this happened to you? Right? Wrong. Not one of us in the RV heard a thing!
You could hear a pin drop. (Or so we think!)
As you may have already surmised. This was my family’s vacation.
Did we all collectively lose our heading? We might never be able to understand it but not one of us heard a peep! Not my husband — who was driving. Not the girls and me who were right next to the wall.
The wall completely detatched from its foundation. The seat I was in slowly sank. My girls and I looked up and screamed — and all of a sudden our mobile home — was — to quote the newspaper on the scene — “disintegrated.” Gone. Kaput. Silence.
It is 24 hours since the incident and we are all still in utter and complete shock.
Too many heroes to count.
What happened next and for the rest of the day was a blur. There were the people who removed us from the wreckage (who did not give their names) There were the countless strangers who bought my girls M&Ms, offered us rides, blankets, masks, and cried for us.
There were the first responders who cleared the scene, ensured we were safe and also ensured the safety of every other person and vehicle nearby.
If there were rubberneckers, we did not see them. We saw new friends we had not yet met. We saw helpers. We were surrounded by people determined to make our bad day a little brighter.
There were people who cared deeply and wanted to do something — anything — to help this family in a moment of utter and complete chaos.
While there were no sounds that we heard. There were lessons to be learned.
It’s so hard not to sound trite. You’re told to count your blessings… You’re told to be grateful for every day… Yeah, so many things — and it’s easy to just “yeah yeah yeah” it away.
But when you’re watching strangers remove your unharmed girls from a vehicle which is just about to split in two — surreal does not begin to describe it.
When you literally see your life flash before your eyes — because the seat you’re ALWAYS seated in on this trip has just disappeared. Poof! There are no words. There is only silence. Maybe that’s why we did not hear a thing?
Sometimes, please — sweat the small stuff.
My one daughter had only brought a single pair of shoes on the trip. These shoes required extensive tying and took some time to place on her feet. We passed a store and I required her to buy a pair of shoes she could just slip on. We were on a quick little vacation and it just made sense to have some shoes she could slip on quickly.
“But they’re ugly” she protested as I picked up a cheap pair in her size. I said, “You’ll wear them once — and we’ll donate ‘em.”
You know where I am headed with this point — when we had to evacuate — because we were afraid the propane tank might blow — the one day old “ugly” shoes were another life saver. The Boy Scouts are so very right. “Be Prepared.” I would add — even in ugly shoes.
It’s trite but it’s true.
Today and everyday. Do be grateful for everything you have. Do help your family but also reach out and do something for someone you don’t know. Your kindness. Even just a caring word or a smile could change a life.
Your actions will speak louder than words. Trust us.
The sounds of people helping us changed our family’s life yesterday.
Let’s please take care of one another.
The rest is silence.