Shall I Tell You a Story?

Shall I tell you a story?

Early last Tuesday evening--about 5:45--Joyce and I were driving off to Aurora to get a Diet Coke at McDonald's. We often make this trip after supper--one of the best times of the day for me. Talking, laughing with her. And driving by Harmon Middle School, where I spent so many happy years of my teaching career ...

But we didn't get very far--just a block from our house.

We stopped at the four-way stop there: Church and College Streets.

We were the only ones at the intersection. I saw a car coming down the hill on my left, but by the time I realized he was not going to stop--was not even going to slow down--it was too late. I had already begun my left turn.

He blew right through the stop sign, hit us broadside (driver's side), and drove our 2012 Prius back through the intersection and up onto the tree lawn on the southeast corner.

I was stunned. Disoriented. In pain. I felt Joyce's arms around me, heard her comforting words.

At first I couldn't get the door open, but eventually I forced it. Climbed out. The other driver was there, apologizing calmly. I was woozy, having trouble standing. I leaned against the ruins of our car.

Very soon the police were there (they cited the other driver, gave him a court date). We waited for the tow truck, found out where it was taking the wreckage. Then crept home--just a block away.

All the remainder of last week we were dealing with our insurance company, with the towing company, and, eventually, with Toyota, from whom we purchased a new Prius after our insurance company declared the 2012 a total loss. Few things are more sobering, by the way, than a visit to a towing company's lot, seeing the ruins of scores of vehicles all around, finding your wreckage ...

The settlement was not all that much--the car was six years old, had about 102,000 miles on it. I didn't expect all that much, didn't receive all that much.

My injuries were not all that severe, I guess. My left shoulder looks as if Muhammad Ali practiced on it. My left knee bled. I have marks from the shoulder harness on my ... shoulder. My ribs and sternum are sore.

Joyce--thank goodness--escaped without a mark.

All week I've been unable to get that moment out of my mind--the realization that the other car was not going to slow or stop, that he was going to hit us, that there was nothing I could do about it.

I am grateful it didn't happen a second or two earlier: The car would have plowed directly into me instead of just behind me. I am even more grateful that it hit my side, not Joyce's.

And I am profoundly grateful for the feeling of her arms around me. I will never forget it ...

And so we go on, wounded, humbled, fragile, fearful, knowing that destruction and injury and worse are always nearby--never farther away than mere seconds.