It can all end in the blink of an eye. . .

Hubby woke at 2:30 this morning. He jumped on his motocycle and drove across the state in the rain. I sat up all morning worrying, willing him to be safe, willing the other cars to pay attention to him, willing that bike to stay on the road. I imagined all the horrible things that could happen. Because if I worried about them then they are less likely to actually happen. He called me after an hour of traveling to tell me he made it to the half way point safely and that I should go back to sleep. I didn't. How could I snuggle down in my warm, safe, bed knowing he was zooming down the road at speeds over 80mph in the middle of the night. I knew something was going to happen. It just felt off. He called at 4:45am to say there was an accident up ahead he was detouring. He called at 5:20 to say he made it safely to work. I should have been relieved, but still something felt wrong. When I spoke to him later in the morn he commented that a co-worker had not arrived. A co-worker he had contemplated riding with if the storm was too bad. A man who was traveling on the interstate the exact same time as my husband. Heading from Atlanta to South Carolina in the middle of the night. Right before noon it was discovered that the co-worker was the accident that hubby had to detour around. As hubby was arriving safely to work, the colleague was dying at a local hospital. If hubby had left a little sooner. . . if the rain had not slowed him down. . . he would have been right there when it happened.