for⋅tu⋅nate [fawr-chuh-nit]
–adjective
| 1. | having good fortune; receiving good from uncertain or unexpected sources; lucky: a fortunate young actor who got the lead in the play. |
| 2. | bringing or indicating good fortune; resulting favorably; auspicious: She made a fortunate decision to go on to medical school. |
Alternate:
for⋅sak⋅en [fawr-sey-kuh
n]
–adjective
| 2. | deserted; abandoned; forlorn: an old, forsaken farmhouse. |
It’s funny this morning I had decided on a word. Basically, the exact opposite of this word. The word I was GOING to elaborate upon was ‘forsaken’ – to be abandoned, forlorn, or deserted. I didn’t have any particular direction I was going to go with it – but it was dramatic, and could probably evoke a dark time out of me that I could get out into the open.
So, on the way home from work today… I carpool with a coworker and his wife (who is just finishing up a contract with the company he works for, that I am a receptionist for). They are really lovely, good, kind people. I really appreciate them in my life, and am glad out of all the people, that I have gotten to know them best so far. The traffic was thick coming out of work and we were a little delayed. Even when we eventually arrived at Marine Skytrain station we were stuck a few feet before the sidewalk I usually get out at. Don says “why doncha get out here, we may be here for a little bit”. I felt kind of bad, because it’s a little out of their way to drop me off at the skytrain station – but they are so kind to do it, and with zero reward for doing so, they now have to sit in traffic, while I saunter up to the skytrain to get home.
Anyhow, it’s interesting how things work out, and the precise timing involved. I arrived at King Edward Skytrain station at roughly 5:30pm. I walked up the steps from the train to the crosswalk, less than a block from my basement suite. I went to walk across the crosswalk going south… but the little ‘white man says walk’ symbol had just turned into a blinking hand. It was dark and raining, and I definitely could have made it across if I half ran a little bit. I think any other day, I would have done it. Any other moment. But something told me to stop. Something small, and little, and slightly nagging told me ‘not the time’. So silly, such a little thing, but I paused and looked down at the song on my ipod, and look up just in time to see two cars travelling in the right lane, going south. I don’t see what happens, but somehow they absolutely smoke each other, propelling the car in behind to skid through the sidewalk and almost into a pole. The front of the car squashed up so tight. The front driver jumped out immediately and ran to the car behind. The car that was behind begins to smoke and make fffffffffffffffffffff noises… It is in this moment I realize, that if I had started running across that crosswalk when I naturally, normally would have been three quarters the way through the crosswalk – which means I would have been pinned between the smashed up car and the pole is nearly took out.
In slow motion, as the driver from behind is being pulled out of his smoking vehicle by 20 or so strangers, I realize the quickness of life – and that it really only takes one moment to seperate life from death. My gaze focuses on a lady who has levitated off the bus stop bench about twenty feet away and is moving as fast as her feet can carry her towards the driver that isn’t moving… more people come out from everywhere, it’s weird, but to me it is all moving so slow. Seconds creep by and take years from start to finish. I snap out of my moment, realize I am doing nothing to help the person in the car – but note that he has a sufficient amount of people to help him already, and I cross myself off the witness list, because I feel like I didn’t really witness this situation. I felt like I was very much a part of it. In some parallel existence, those were my last moments. The last moments for a girl, just wanting to get home after a long long day at work, wanting to see her puppy that will be so excited to see her when she arrives home. The girl wearing all black clothing at five thirty on an rainy early-winters eve. For a moment I grieved, but was then filled with an incredible peace. Nothing heroic, and not an epic tale – theoretically nothing happened… but I listened to the voice inside, and was rewarded with my life.
To everyone, everywhere: I love you.
