The Morning after...

NEWS FLASH: ...car swerves on gravel road, does a rollover and swerves into a ditch. 13 year old girl dead, sixteen year old brother driver hospitalized! NEITHER WERE WEARING SEAT BELTS!!!
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Well after I came home, settled down, somewhat, I had to return to reality. I wrecked the truck. My face was burning, Adams eye began swelling, and I began feeling fortunate for not being killed. I was alive but I felt I had walked through a portal and wasn’t coming back out.

I guess it was just a simple enough accident, slick road, swerving, pounding into a ditch. Simple, right? Wrong! Anxiety swept over me like a dense fog. I could not look out the window without crying. The incident kept playing over and over and over again.

BOOM went the airbags. FISSSSSSSSS went the smoke. Ears ringing, tears falling. It was a horrible experience.

The sobbing would not stop, I’d be fine, then it would hit me in the face and I’d  begin to cry. I felt alone, in pain, ashamed, hurt, sore, weary and uncertain.  Stevens mom came over, dispersed hugs, and offered her car. “What?” I thought, “DRIVE?” Oh dear, I dread driving, dread dread dread.

All of my friends were giving me warm wishes. Isn’t it funny how the people on the computer can be more consoling and understanding? Tuesday my rest day, I checked this thing two or three times, and each time I checked, my writing friends were there hugging me, and caring for me like a mom dog with her puppies. Let me tell you, the writing community is awesome! When something happens to one of us, we circle around for support to our injured comrade. My sister called, and we both agreed, I shouldn’t tell my mother.

Steven asked his mom if we could borrow the car to go to the library/food shopping on Tuesday and being the loving woman that she is, she brought the car out here. I would have to drive her back home and then drive back here. *sob* *cry* I really wasn’t worried about food or anything else for that matter, I just wanted to rest.

I got in the car, shaking, she wanted me to drive so I could get familiar with the car. Low to the ground, feet barely reaching the pedal, eyes could hardly see over the wheel, I started the car and off I went. I drove about 10 MPH up the dirt road, 40 on the asphalt.
Great, I’m driving. Get me back home now, my brain was screaming.

I made it home and the next day, Wednesday, we went food shopping. I said if I was going to go, Steven had to come too! I won’t be alone! Another 10 MPH for two miles, passed the ditch where all this occurred, hands trembling, chest tightening, tears rolling, I made it to the asphalt! Made it to the stupid library, made it to the store.

A lot of eyes looked at me sympathetically as I passed, black eye shining, obvious pain written on my face. Adam looks no better than me but his bangs can disguise his cut up forehead. We were in the public, just two days after this life altering event. Well life altering for Adam and I. We arrived home and tears came like a flood.

Today, Thursday, I have to drive about 30 miles out to his brothers house so he can look at the truck. Me? I’d much rather take it to a garage, but his brother is a mechanic and wants to look underneath the thing. Let’s see, the headlights are dangling like eyeballs hanging out of a socket, grass clings to the underbody and all through the engine, the truck smells like a swamp, mud clings to it like a silk scarf and I’m afraid driving it, is going to do more damage since it took on so much water. Does it really matter what *I* think? How I feel? Me, me me? Well the roads are wet and slippery today, so good luck me!

Rest? No, not me. Back in the saddle once again. I’ll rest when I go home.