I’m out on the front porch, just getting ready to sit down in my rocker. I look up. A flash of silver, a glob of big and white.
or was it…boom crack?
“Holy shit, Mick! ” I yelled from the porch, scrambling down the steps and clawing my back pocket for my cell. Neighbors come running. There’s a birthday party at the house next door. People start flowing into their driveway, most of them under the age of nine. My husband bounds out of the house, running down our own driveway at full speed toward the silver Buick that just sheared off the electric poll. I’m on the phone, calling 911.
A young woman is also running toward the accordion Buick. She and my husband manage to pull the woman out of the car as the poll teeters and sways. They bring her halfway up our driveway, and set her on one of our lawn chairs. In the meantime I’m talking to dispatch, telling them the woman’s name (MaryAnne) and her age (80) and answering their questions. The ambulance is on the way.
I disconnect and I begin talking to MaryAnne. The young woman that helped my husband is standing on the other side of MaryAnne. She’s trying to call MaryAnne’s sons, except MaryAnne is confused and we’re not sure she’s giving the right phone numbers.
“MaryAnne,” I say, “Everything is going to be okay.”
MaryAnne is going into shock; but, all we can see is a lump on her brow. Other than that, she looks like she’s still in one piece, and she’s coherent. She’s talking about the lobsters she left in the car.
“No, MaryAnne, we can’t go get them right now. You see, you hit a pole? And you sliced it in half. There are live wires over there. We can’t get your lobsters just yet; but, we will.” MaryAnne is distressed. I decided to woman-up.
“MaryAnne? Do you know what a Pow-Wow is?”
“A faith healer,” she said.
“That’s right,” I say.
“Oh! I believe in them!”
The young woman with us is looking at me strangely; but, she’s not being a jerk.
“Well, MaryAnne, I’m a Pow-Wow. Is it okay if I work for you right now until we get the ambulance to come?”
“That will be fine,” says MaryAnn. “I was listening to Bible verses on my radio when I hit the pole.”
“Indeed,” I said. And began working and didn’t stop until the EMT’s appeared.
But, that’s not all.
So, I turn to the young woman, and I say, “Who are you?”
She says her name is Rachel, and I get that funny feeling inside. I know about a Rachel, one we’ve never met. Her name is even in my genealogy collection, along with other information about that side of the family. “I’m at the birthday party next door,” she says, “with my children.”
I ask her a few pointed questions, just to be sure, and then I turn to my husband and say, “Mick? Meet Rachel – your niece.”
They packed MaryAnne in the ambulance, and eventually they drove off. From my understanding, she is going to be okay. We rescued the lobsters and told MaryAnne that they will be here for her if she comes back. Mick and Rachel exchanged phone numbers.
Now, I ask you…really…what are the chances?