Live Every Day

I’ll be honest, my heart is not in blogging tonight. It has been a horrible day that all of us are glad to see the back of, I think.

It started well-enough with laughter, photography, a lovely bath and cuddles. At that time, I wasn’t aware that things had already gone tragically wrong halfway around the world and I didn’t know what lay ahead for us this morning. Shortly after bath time, my daughter had a horrible bounce-related accident and fell a significant distance, landing in a  a stomach-pinceringly awkward position. She fell backwards, landing with full force, on her head, legs in the air, neck crunched up. My husband was downstairs, changing the battery on his motorbike. I was alone with her and it was terrifying. I hardly dared move her. In those moments, life slows and narrows down staggeringly to the before and after the split second when something has gone horribly wrong. At the sime time, thousands of miles away, a young, talented rider I liked enormously was dying after something also had gone off badly. But I didn’t know that yet. My husband and I were consumed with worry and spent a few hours in hospital with a green-looking, sick child. Fortunately for us, by the time she got to see the Dr, she was tap-dancing across the consulting room, pink cheeked once more and eating a banana. They laughed knowingly. I just wanted to lie down and cry without end in relief. The impact to our day had merely been that her dad and I felt like we’ve been hit by a big stress-baseball-bat and needed to sleep; we were late and disorganised arriving at our NCT 2nd birthday party and all of our plans for the day were now a thing of history. It fell to us to just cobble together what we could. We pissed a few people off accordingly and drove around half a mile with patisserie on the roof of the car, so absolutely mind-raggled were we. But ultimately, our kid is ok and the rest of it, if not fixable (the carrot cake is in the road somewhere, feeding the local vermin no doubt), is not terminal.

By contrast, we had discovered the tragedy of Marco Simoncelli’s freak accident when we got home from hospital. We switched on the MotoGP Sky+ recording to note that it had been cancelled due to an accident involving 3 of our favourite riders. We knew instantly something perilous had happened. Races don’t get cancelled just because someone has fallen off. Within minutes, having googled the event, we knew that the rider with possibly the most promising future of all had been killed racing. I left the room to cry and my husband held our wan little child very tightly.  And the event hasn’t left either of us since. Something incomprehensible has happened that cannot be fixed to someone amazing. This must be how people felt when Senna was killed nearly 20 years ago.

This blog has nothing to do with reading. I’m sorry for that. I can’t really summon the heart, having had our own monumentally great escape and inadvertantly witness someone not make their own. We have actually read lots today. Before the accident. At the hospital. After the hospital and just before bed. My daughter instigated all of these interactions with books, because we were both too shell-shocked to. I think she really enjoyed them. They have become part of her routine, which would otherwise be noteworthy and would have given rise – in other circumstances – to a blog on that point exactly. I am glad that engaging her in reading required no effort on our part and all we had to do was phone it in, that she had something now-familiar to soothe and reassure and engage her. Because today, we didn’t have it in us.

RIP Marco 58

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