This morning I was driving on I-84 outside of Boise when about a hundred feet in front of me I saw a car flipping and pin-balling across the four lane highway. I felt my heart drop like a weight into my stomach and tears immediately rushed to my eyes—I thought I was watching someone die.

I imagine this was my first thought because of how raw the deaths of two of my friends are... wild Taylor Nieri and sweet Ellie Bartlett. Both in the past month, both in tragic car accidents. Both of who I am still very much so grieving. 

I pulled over to the left side of the highway behind a couple other cars which had done the same. Without thinking, I felt my body turn on my flashers, grab my phone, unbuckle, and make my way across the highway. On the opposite side, two men were helping a girl in a green dress out of the upside down car. She was screaming and crying, and when they sat her down, I found myself hustling to sit right by her side. I asked if there was anyone else in the car and she shook her head between tears. One of the men called 911 and another took her pulse and I rubbed her back and instinctually said, "everything's going to be okay". 

Miraculously, she wasn't hurt other than a scratch on her ankle and a bruise on her elbow. I even heard myself say that it was a miracle she was alive. She was very shooken up and said she needed to call her mom, so I gave her my phone and she made the quick call. She sobbed out that she was clipped by a semi and her car spun out and flipped multiple times, that she was okay, and that she was sorry. I was surprised by that one... she had just been hit and could've died and yet she was apologizing? I understood though, when I reflected back to being hit on my bike in India, and the first word out of my mouth was "sorry". And now it's a word I've heard so often in the past month of grieving these two girls. Maybe it's what we instinctively say when we just have no other words.

Two police arrived and asked her what happened. She told them her name and age (nineteen!) and explained how a semi was changing lanes behind her, clipped the back of her car which initiated a series of skids and flips, eventually landing her upside down on the opposite side of the highway. She cried and repeated that it was so scary. 

I told them I didn't see what happened but that we called her mom who lived nearby and was on her way.

They asked if she could remember anything about the truck and all she could remember was that it was white and maroon. She said she wishes she could remember more. The asshole just drove off :(

I sat with her and talked briefly, holding her hand and taking deep breaths. She was so scared and sad and upset about her car. I couldn't help but open up to her... "I feel compelled to share with you that in the past month I've lost two friends in two separate car accidents. I know things seem bad right now. And you're so lucky to be alive. It's such a blessing that you're okay". She squeezed my hand and nodded.

At some point the paramedics came and I scooted away so they could do an assessment. She bravely repeated the story and turned down the ambulance ride when they offered. Still they walked her over to it and inside to continue to monitor her. The police asked where I was parked and said they'd help get me across to my car. But I knew she wanted her phone so I ducked down besides the totaled car and followed an aux cord to an iPhone, playing a song from the Moana soundtrack.

I walked it over to the ambulance where she sat with a blanket around her shoulders and handed it over, saying I found it and that I was probably about to leave. She took it, then my hand, and looked me in the eyes for the first time. She said, "thank you, so much, for everything," and a paramedic nodded. I told her I was so happy she was okay. We smiled and I walked away. 

I sat near her car on the concrete highway barrier and watched the slow traffic as my thoughts sped up, trying to make sense of it. What was the significance of it all? How come I happened to be there? What are the fking chances? And all of this just after two of my friends were in fatal car accidents. What message could I interpret from all of this?

The police helped stop traffic so I could get across to my Jeep, which I had never even turned off. I buckled and steadily merged back into traffic. And it was over.

But it wasn't, my mind was racing about what had just happened. How random, yet entirely not random. How fragile our lives actually are. I thought of how scared she was and how instinctually I stepped in and next to that fear. I just hoped my friends didn't have to feel too much fear before it was over.

I don't remember either of them being afraid, ever. Or at least they didn't live their lives by it. Taylor was never afraid to lead a route or climb the highest or get naked in front of total strangers. Ellie was never afraid of what others thought of her latest hair/clothing style, or to go on solo adventures, or to downhill mountain bike faster than anyone. 

They certainly were never afraid of driving to get to those adventures. So what choice did I have? I could live in fear everytime I entered a car, or I could live like them. Fearless. Choosing to LIVE and be FREE and BRAVE and WILD. 

I remembered an important quote, that bravery isn't the absence of fear. It's acknowledging all the fears and still doing it. Knowing the risks of falling off the rock or wiping out or being vulnerable in front of others. But the greatest fear of all would be to NOT do something because of fear. To let that force be stronger than love. 

I think this is what Taylor and Ellie would want. For us to be brave, and to not live any bit less because they can't, but rather to live extra. To go bigger and harder and wilder. And to also be more loving, and open, and graceful to one another. We definitely need some of that right now.

I have been embracing the duality of light and dark throughout this month. When something horrible and shitty and sad happens, it's hard to see past its horribleness and shittiness and sadness. And I have to believe that there is something that can grow out of the space that they left us with... it has to. I suppose I am starting to find the lightness in this, shining through the breaks in my heart, inspiring me to move forward. To not sit too still and too long in the darkness, but to talk and share and cry and laugh and live. 

So today I moved, I moved across traffic to a scene where I feared the worst, yet left with faith and hope. Faith that I can get behind the wheel of a car without being struck with fear. Hope that I can live for those who can't, and that we can shine on the everlasting light of Tay and Bart every single day.