2002-08-30-9:20 p.m.

This morning I went in Abby's room and sat on her bed and hugged her tight and kissed her and asked her if she needed anything. I noticed the maroon tank top she sleeps in sometimes and the silver dolphins necklace Andrew gave her that she never takes off. I noticed her nice, chubby arms and her sleepy little face and her beautiful blonde hair in a way I never had before.

She was in a wreck yesterday. She and two friends were on their way to Fiesta Texas and the jeep they were in hydroplaned and spun and flipped three times. All three girls rode in ambulances to the hospital where they were pronounced pretty much unhurt. Bumps and bruises were all they had. The jeep had a rollbar and all the girls were wearing their seatbelts.

How do you react when tragedy has come so close that you can smell it and hear the hushed tones of its voice and look deeply into its sad, hollow eyes? I am so very thankful, but so afraid to know that my family is just as vulnerable as the next. It could have been us. We could have had to deal with the loss of a child. We could have spent the rest of our lives wondering - do we say we have six children or five? Or Abby could have ended up hurt or in a coma or any of a million things. She could have been the only girl to live through it and then she would live with that for the next sixty years.

I'm just so glad I still have my girl. I'm so glad that she was wearing her seatbelt.

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