Overcoming the Ice: A Grinch’s View

Today feels like the right day to share this update, which I’ve been putting off for some time. The short of it is that we’ve been encountering icy mornings on our usual half-mile drive past the accident site to the pickleball club. We learned that city maintenance ends just past where the accident occurred, and county maintenance picks up from there to the mountain. Over the years, my wife and I have often remarked how terrible that stretch of road is, frequently spotting cars slid off to the side.

Despite always being an optimistic person with few anxieties, certain experiences have left deep impressions. One such experience was in LA, where a gun was pointed at me—a traumatic moment that eventually led me to want to move away from the area. For a while, I struggled to drive past that spot without feeling uneasy, and telling the story became a way for me to let off steam.

Lately, driving to the club on icy roads has been nerve-wracking. Even though I’m cautious, seeing others swerve or lose control triggers a visceral reaction. It’s not exactly worry about being in an accident myself, but anxiety over the possibility of someone else’s mishap. It’s like that feeling when you see your child teetering at the top of a swing set or hanging from a tree branch—you know the risks all too well.

Each time I use the Apple Find app to track my kids and it momentarily shows them off the road while updating, I’m instantly taken back to that day. My wife, sensing something was wrong, urged me to check their location. That day, her intuition was painfully accurate; the kids were already in the emergency room by the time the app located their phones amidst the wreckage.

As I write this, the anxiety is palpable, and I find myself wondering if it will ever subside. I’m not sure it will.

Switching gears to the holiday season, we’re gearing up to celebrate Christmas, and I’m profoundly grateful that we’ll all be together, nearly a year after the accident. This year has brought recovery, insights, and yes, even valuable struggles.

While I might sound a bit like the Grinch reminiscing about the late nights assembling bikes and toys for the kids, a line from “The Polar Express” resonates with me: “Though I’ve grown old the bell still rings for me, as it does for all who truly believe.” I believe—we are fortunate to have family, friends, and even strangers who have supported and comforted us throughout this challenging year.

Thank you to everyone. I hope you all have a safe and joyous holiday season, and here’s to a hopeful and prosperous 2025.