This morning I totaled my car. And walked away from the wreck. I ping ponged between an eighteen-wheeler and a cement barrier, and I got out of my crumpled vehicle under my own power. In fact, I began delegating: when the kind drivers who stopped ran up to see if I was ok, the second thing I said after “yes” was, “would you call 9-1-1, I have to call my work?” Then I cried off and on for about three hours.
I am lucky to have walked away with little more than whiplash and shattered emotions: not only did I strike the semi truck and the barrier, but I spun around until my car was parked squarely across both lanes of 7 am commuter traffic. Luckily, no one behind me rammed into my car. Luckily, I didn’t hit anything head on. The officer who came to the scene said the skid marks I left were at least one hundred forty eight feet long, and my car was glued to the road. The road worker who moved it so traffic could resume did so with the front of his truck, shoving my car like a bulldozer scrapes dirt. All morning long, stranger have been telling me I am lucky to be alive, and I know that I am.
I am so thankful to be alive. And to know that my competent coworkers, amazingly kind strangers, lovely insurance folks, and one spectacular husband took over and made today continue to work, even while I sit here unable to really process or function. So thankful.