When in distress or tired or desperate or alone, people often call out for help. To God. Friends. The universe.
So, to end this compound fracture of a weekend, I got into a car accident this morning.
It was a slippery road. I was on my way to play the keyboard for a local Lutheran church. Approaching a curve in the road, doing about 15 or 20 miles per hour, my car started to fishtail. Before I knew it, a minivan coming in the opposite direction struck my car in the driver's door.
The next thing I knew, my car was on the side of the road. I was still sitting behind the wheel. Covered in glass. Ears ringing. Head pounding. I pushed the driver's door open. Got out to see if the other driver was okay. The world spun vertiginously. I went and sat in my car again. The police showed up. then an ambulance. I soon found myself on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance, on my way to the hospital.
After a CT scan, frustration, tears, and pain meds, I was on my way home. Good news: I have no head trauma. Bad news: my daughter's car is totaled, and I feel like I've been hit by a snowplow.
When I was sitting in the car after the accident, I did call out to the universe. It was something like, "I am done. Done. Donedonedone."
I'm probably going to take tomorrow off from the library. Still going to teach.
Then, Saint Marty may just . . . have a bowl of Cheerios with Bailey's Irish Cream.
❤️
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