This week on Twitter, for Friday Phrases, the prompt was "Submerged / Under the Sea". I wrote this:
The text had a location and six words
that gave me the instant sensation I was submerged in icy water.
that gave me the instant sensation I was submerged in icy water.
"We just got in an accident."
This week, I wasn't telling a story in 140 characters or
less. Well, I suppose, technically, I was but the story wasn't fiction. I
received this text from my husband Thursday evening. The "we" in this
text was my husband and my two children. I called him. He told me where they
were and that he had to go because the ambulance was there. I had to drive.
15 minutes away. A quarter of an hour that, clichés be damned, felt like a
lifetime. Shaking, scared out of my mind but paying close attention to the road
(because the last thing we needed was another accident), I drove those fifteen
minutes. Before I saw my children, I saw what was left of my husband’s car.
Then I saw them and ran. They were shaking, crying, burned,
and bruised, but they were whole and alive and hugging me.
It was a long night. Everyone was looked over in the ER as I hovered and fretted. It was crowded. The doctors and nurses kept us all together in one, little exam room. That simple act is something I am wildly grateful for. My husband’s burns were bandaged and all the x-rays were normal. No one was broken. Not physically. My 7-yr-old is still sleeping in our room. My 10-yr-old Aspie is working through this logically with what parts of the car were scattered on the road and what was and was not left in the car.
I could have lost my world, my entire world, a few days ago. I didn’t. I get that. But I could have. I have no words for the feeling I get when I think about it, which I’ve been trying like hell not to do.
So, although this was not my intent for today’s post, here it is.
It was a long night. Everyone was looked over in the ER as I hovered and fretted. It was crowded. The doctors and nurses kept us all together in one, little exam room. That simple act is something I am wildly grateful for. My husband’s burns were bandaged and all the x-rays were normal. No one was broken. Not physically. My 7-yr-old is still sleeping in our room. My 10-yr-old Aspie is working through this logically with what parts of the car were scattered on the road and what was and was not left in the car.
I could have lost my world, my entire world, a few days ago. I didn’t. I get that. But I could have. I have no words for the feeling I get when I think about it, which I’ve been trying like hell not to do.
So, although this was not my intent for today’s post, here it is.
And here is this. The girl who almost killed my family ran a red light at full speed because she was looking at her cell phone—texting or playing a game or reading a map or I don’t give a damn. It’s simple. If you are looking at your phone, you are not looking at the road.
