Sylvia's Journal

Some moments I get a glimpse of this abyss or precipice. I shuffle close by, thinking I am ready to peak in and then I can’t, my brain wills my mind’s eye away. It is the abyss ‘of alternative outcomes.’ Why do I want to go there if we accomplished the most desirable of all outcomes is a mystery, but something is tugging at me.

There are a series of before/after images that play themselves out like a film: Axel and me putting our gear into the car that fateful Saturday, all excited about a new flying adventure. The departure from Beverly, the glorious day that was shining over Essex and neighboring counties. I think off the first trip in which I shuttled Morsi, Neveen and Ahmad from Gardner to Montagu, then flying back with Ahmad to pick Joan and Axel up. Everyone snapping pictures like crazy. It was such a wonderful day, I felt confident in the plane and if there was any hesitance on the side of Joan, Morsi and the kids, they were quickly able to enjoy the view from the sky. We had a great picnic at the Turner’s Falls airfield.

And then comes the part I want to rewind and do over. The part where I want to take the pilot error out. The part that changed everything (EVERYTHING). Images of us ‘stuck in the mud’ – how long it took for me to come to that momentous and most frightening realization: that we should/could have died in that crash, or one or two of us could have; how I screwed up and dragged our own and Joan’s family into this – and then trying to figure out what this ‘this’ is: a nightmare? An endless series of blessings? A costly mistake that will suck us all dry? An incredible burden placed on people I love so much? A series of pains (in the neck, in the gut, in the belly, in the ribs, in the arms, feet, hips, etc.)? A gigantic mess-up of Axel’s school and career plans, Joan and Morsi’s summer plans, Ahmad and Neveen’s dream trip to the US, etc.

The crash site, in my mind still has a yellow police ribbon around it which says ‘don’t go there.’ Part of me complies and another part is trying to sneak past it when no one is looking.