Miracles

and Hope

Six years ago last night, l was pacing around my apartment because l had a strong sense that something was wrong, that something had happened to my daughter, Amy. I couldn't sit still or relax and finally around 7:30 p.m., my fears were confirmed when I got a call from an Emergency Service asking me where Amy was, if l knew her location. Thus began one of the worst nights of my life, during which l didn't know whether my daughter would still be alive when l got to Vegas in the morning—l was barely able to get any information because she was out of range of most cell service. I won't recount in detail every bit of what happened, but if you know me or my daughters at all, you know that even though she fell over 60 feet, and was critically injured (both legs broken, a crushed pelvis, a fractured spine, broken ribs, an exposed calcaneus bone (she was lying in the dirt for over two hours), and nearly died before the helicopter could transport her to the hospital, miraculously, she didn't. She lived, she wasn't paralyzed, she can walk, she's doing fine, and last night, because life can also be hilarious and fun, she went to a Backstreet Boys concert at the Sphere in Las Vegas with her friend, Sarah (who happened to have free tickets and who was in fact with Amy the night her paraglider crashed in that freak accident).

And l am telling you this: if l could have looked ahead during that long year of recovery Amy had, devastatingly difficult, in which we despaired many times and in which she had to call on her grit and determination in the deepest ways—if l could have looked ahead and seen her six years in the future going out to have fun with her friend, healthy and happy, how glorious would that have been? How much would l have felt calmer and better and more able to cope with the extraordinary challenges of that year?

Last night was, in some cosmic way, a joyous reboot of that terrible night, a chance to see more of the narrative than we could when it first happened. Last night, Amy was out having fun with Sarah instead of lying broken in the desert. Ava, Amy's little daughter, was at her Aunt Alli's house with her cousins for a sleepover, one of her heart's desires! (the same place she was, as a three-month-old, the night Amy crashed), and this July 13th, 2025, instead of terror, l got to have a Zoom call with my two other daughters plus all three of my sweet grandkiddos, and we had so much fun laughing and talking and enjoying each other's presence.

The sleepover :)

Life is different now than it was before Amy’s accident, of course, and that wasn’t the final difficult moment of our lives—not at all—but last night, my daughters and I got a little miracle, a chance to feel something new, a bigger piece of the story that l couldn’t have imagined at the time of Amy’s accident.

Whatever we’re feeling or experiencing right now as individuals, or even as a country, I believe there is a reboot coming for all of us, and it helps me to remember that the story isn’t entirely written yet—and to be able to hold space for that, even in a corner of one’s mind, is a bit of a miracle, too.

The Backstreet Boys at the Sphere, July 13, 2025

Amy (on right) and Sarah, last nigh

Sending love and hope -

Constance