The Nice Paramedic Man warned me that, despite the fact I felt physically fine yesterday, I might be a little sore today.
A LITTLE sore?? Holy crap, where did this come from? I swear that even if I hadn't said a word, the people at work would have known I had been in a car accident just by looking at me. This sucks.
But want to know the truth? The fact that I am "sore" is freaking wonderful, it is a blessing and a joy and a miracle, because that's all that's wrong with me. I should have (at minimum) a broken arm or a big gash on the side of my head or a big bruise or something. But no, Son and I are both fine. (On a different note, guess I can kiss goodbye any chance of ever winning the lottery, because I used up all my luck yesterday. I'm cool with that.)
I had a long talk with Son today, it seemed to help him to talk to me about the accident, seeing how I was in the car with him. We talked about how it seemed to happen very quickly but very slowly, and about how we were both silent when it happened, no screaming or freaking out, just waiting to see what would happen next. I said to him, "You know Son, there are parts I just don't remember. I remember them pulling me out of the car, but I don't remember them taking you out."
He said, almost with relief, "But Mummy, I remember them pulling me out, but I don't remember YOU coming out."
I guess it's normal, these blank spots in our memories, and I don't think either of us is going to worry too much about it. But I, for one, WILL remember how grateful I felt to the people who helped us, remember how grateful I was to look at my beautiful son and know he wasn't hurt, remember how grateful I was to the Powers That Be.
Kinda stuck in that mode right now, actually. Even if my back hurts.