The Visitor

Today, on my delivery, I spoke to a lady who was recently in a nasty car crash. Her three children were in the car as well but fortunately they were unharmed - physically, at least. They've had nightmares ever since. Whereas she can't remember a thing.

The last time I spoke to her was not long after the accident; she looked like she had been beaten up really bad. Her face was swollen and was made up of several colours, ranging from yellow, red, purple and blue.

When I saw her today she looked like she had recovered 100%, although she told me she still hurt inside.

She still can't remember anything that happened. Her children keep trying to kick-start her memory but to no avail.

Then she said something that resonated with what I'd been thinking and reminding myself of all morning.

'Having this experience has made me realise that it can all be over in a split second. One minute you're here, and the next you're not. We (her and her husband) haven't even made a will. We're in the process of making one now. We didn't think about it before. You think you're invincible, don't you? You go through life thinking that you're going to be here forever. But you're not.'

I shared with her the saying that goes something like, "A mere banana skin separates you from death".

'That's exactly how I feel,' she said. 'You can be gone like that.' (she clicked her fingers).

I mentioned before some resonance between what she said and what I was thinking of.

What I was reminding myself of was making me feel great. It was making me perceive things more clearly. Gratitude was overflowing from within. My senses came alive every time I uttered it. I was soaking up everything. And the more I reminded myself of this one statement, which only consists of three words, the more elevated I felt.

And those three words were . . .

I'm
.
.
.
Only 
.
.
.
Visiting.