The Emotional Tsunamis

It was on the last day of our Easter weekend at the cottage when the 'Tsunami' broke. The only way I can describe these events is like sitting near a rocky seashore on a calm day, watching the small waves roll in, crashing easily on the rough, broken shore. And without warning, I notice a mammoth wave, rising in the distance from the deep sea, like a tidal wave, or a tsunami. It is racing in at a speed tenfold that of the small waves swelling and breaking, and overtakes numbers of them as it heads toward the shore. It is now only seconds away, and starting to break, and is easily twenty times taller than all the others now. And then it crashes furiously into the rocky crags and jagged cliffs, the sound thundering and deafening, the ground shaking and rumbling beneath my feet, even from my vantage point several hundred feet away. And then the spray comes, great plumes of water soaking the upper reaches of the shoreline. And as quickly as it arrived, the water recedes back to the sea, and the quiet smooth waves continue breaking against the shore, as if nothing had happened.

I had just started reading the Weekend Living section of the Saturday edition of the Toronto Star when I noticed a cropped photograph of a Paramedic ambulance accompanying an article. The article was entitled 'Tragedy forges an unlikely bond' by Tom Scanlan, part of the Slice of Life Series. It was a simple, heartfelt account of a drivers experience as he had the fortune of happening upon a collision on the highway driving home from the cottage. I had to read it, and I also knew exactly what would happen to me if I did.