The
song plays on the radio station. The one that makes you sing out loud and want
to roll down the windows and feel the wind in your hair. She smiles as the
chorus approaches. She loves emphasizing the word “STOP” in the latest Cardi B
song. She briefly looks in the rearview mirror, and she sees the empty car
seat. Her thoughts fade to her kids. It was 7:42 a.m. and they are likely
walking into their classes to pledge to the flag. She wondered if her son would
remember to bring home his P.E. clothes forgotten in his gym locker. They are
likely growing a science experiment by now, she thought. She says,
"gross" out loud then chuckles to herself. Other images fill her brain as she thinks
about her day and the projects on her to do list. But her mind is not free of
worry thinking of the work she must do on her rental home from tenants who
treated is like a rock star in a hotel room on a drug and alcohol binge. What
is wrong with people she thought. To leave someone’s property is such a state
of disarray and mess. She started to make a mental note of the tools she needed
to take over there for a long hard weekend of back-breaking work for her and
her husband.
She
almost feels like she is on autopilot as she drives home, taking the same route
twice a day everyday school is in. This day was no different. Except there is
more than usual construction going on. It seems the roads in her town are
always under construction. You can’t find a road to drive on that doesn’t have
flashing lights, signs posted of people working, or those dirty orange cones to
avoid hitting…or hitting if you want to have some fun. She navigates the road construction like a
child on a motorcycle arcade game. Leaning left and leaning right as she curves
around the guys who carelessly walk about the side of the road like there is no
impending danger to their lives as cars zoom on by at 10 over the speed limit.
Even though there are road obstacles to navigate through, she still values this
time to think through her plans for the day and prioritize her list. She also
takes a few moments to think about all that she is blessed with, her two kids
and her fantastic husband who she adores and finds a new thing to love about
him each day.
Her
thoughts are abruptly broken by a truck pulling out in front of her, nearly
clipping her bumper. As she comes off autopilot, she breaks sharply and feels
the overdue library books hit the back of her seat before hearing the thud from
them dropping to the floor. She raises her hands in a “WTF” motion to the
driver who waves a hand out the window. Somehow that makes it all better to her.
He owns his mistake. However, he too is
cut short on distance as a rock carrying dump truck pulls a fast one in front
of him; leaving us all about 15 feet short of road. As she takes a moment to
look in the rearview mirror, out of habit, she first glimpses the empty car
seat, briefly smiling as the image of her long, blonde-haired daughter singing
a song from Mama Mia with her arms waving about in full animation like she is
at an auditioning for the part. But then she notices the movement of a car. The
car is traveling much too fast. Her mind racing, she looks in front of her,
nowhere to go, she looks left and right and sees the construction workers
carrying on, but they seem to be moving in slow motion, by the time she glances
back up, her mind fills with blackness.
As
she opens her eyes, she is blinded by the brilliance of the sun shining in her
car; she realizes she is completely turned around, covered in blood, but
feeling no pain. As she slowly comes to grip with what just occurred and
assesses where she is, she sees a young girl on the side of the road, crying
hysterically, she is just sitting on the concrete median. I wonder if she is hurt,
but quickly realize she is the operator of the car that hit me. Her car too
appears pretty mangled. She is talking but not making any sense. She is visibly
shaking, and tears flow like a heavy rain down her face. I slowly crawl out of
my window given my car doors are inoperable.
I
yell, "someone call for help!" I walk slowly over to the young girl,
and I try to find words to comfort her. People are stopping now and getting out
of their cars. They run to my car and shrieks of cries come from the growing crowd
of onlookers. People are running around, and it is complete chaos. Someone
yells there is a car seat – was there a child in the car? “Did anyone see a
child in the car,” someone yells again. For a brief moment I stopped to think,
“did I drop her off, did I forget, was I just imagining the car seat was empty
when in fact she was really there?” panic rose inside me for the briefest
moment when I quickly recall her saying “I love you mommy” as she dropped her
lunch bag while exiting my car, but was quickly helped by the traffic aid.
Whew! I do remember that she was not in the car, relief welled inside me. They
pull on my car doors, but without any luck, they could not get them open. I
realize then that they do not know that I am on the curb with the young girl
who hit me. I yell, “I am over here, there was no child.” I look at the girl
and tell her to calm down; I am okay. But I am sure all of the blood on my
clothing is adding to her dismay, she won’t even look at me, likely ashamed.
She is mumbling something I cannot make out; I hear sirens in the distance. Oh,
good they are coming now, I tell her this was just an accident, that I am okay,
my kids are at school. Having been in an accident before and wishing at the
time of my accident that someone took the time to calm me down too. I slowed my
voice and my tone and repeated to her, “I am okay.” I did not want to be
presumptuous and assume she needed or wanted a hug, but more so a calm voice of
reassurance. A person came over to her
and asked what happened. I chimed in, “it was just an accident, we are both
fine”, but they seem to ignore what I am saying, I would typically call these
people busybodies, but I am sure they have the best intentions here. One person
seemed to get more and more upset standing there, and started yelling, “I saw
you on your cell phone, was it worth it,” she yelled. Another woman starts
yelling, “there could have been a child in that car too!” I jumped in and said,
“is this necessary – we need a calm environment right now, a lot is going on,
let’s take a moment to calm down and try to process this.” I see a policeman
walking toward us, and my hope was that he could calm this crowd. Many people were running over to tell him what
they saw. He waved them off in an aggressive manner with his hand and asked
that they back up and give us room as he observed the scene and called in some
codes on his radio to dispatch. The ambulance had arrived moments later, I
started to stand and walk toward them but wanted to be there to talk with the
officer in case he had questions for me too. I could share the truck pulling
out in front of the truck and all that, but he went straight to her. He asked
her what had occurred and she explained she did not see that traffic stopped,
she was almost incoherent and sobbing loudly. He asked her if there was anyone
she could call and she said, “my mom, I want to call my mom.” For a brief
moment I thought of my kids, I hope they would do the same, call mom she will
make it better. I took comfort in that for some reason.
I
see the paramedics come over to the officer, and he whispered something to them
as they passed us and went to my car, I quickly gestured with my hand narrating
and saying, “I am here, that is my car.” I repeated, “I am okay, we are okay,
this was just an accident.” But then I see them pulling someone from my car. I
am confused for a moment. I am unsure what is going on. I begin to walk toward
the car, and as I look upon the face of the women they are pulling from the
car, I quickly feel the sting of tears fill my eyes. It is me. I am being
removed from my car. But how can this be, I am standing right here, I was
comforting the girl, I was explaining to the officer what happened. My body is
lifeless. With all the care in the world, I am placed on the gurney. Then as
quickly as the blackness came in when the accident occurred, comes the total
whiteness. I realize it is the white sheet they place over my lifeless body.
Behind me, I hear painful screams and confusion.
My
once happy thoughts quickly become sad as I picture my wonderful husband and my
sweet kids. I won’t be there to pick them up today or any day from here on
forward. I won’t hear my daughter’s sweet songs or recount my son’s day and all
the things he forgot. I won’t hear about the comical stories my husband tells
about his office life or share in how much work we have to do to get our rental
home on the market for sale. I will miss his hugs. My heart fills with
blackness as I come to terms with the reality I am no longer among the living. I did not get to say goodbye to those that
will likely hate me for leaving them far too early in this life. I wish I could
take back all the comforting words wasted on that young girl on the roadside
and send them to my kids for they will be confused and they will not understand
why mommy won’t be there ever again. What was a careless act by one, quickly
turns to a death sentence for another. I feel my soul lift, and I know it is my
time to leave this life behind, but not before one more glance in the rearview
mirror.
XXXXXX
