Thursday, November 03, 2011

A daze and a crash

I felt rubbed raw.

I dragged myself out of bed and packed up a few things. I drank a cup of tea and turned down the television and I blogged about Darren. And the best way that I can describe how I felt yesterday morning is by saying that I felt like I had been rubbed raw.

I was slow getting ready for work. I had errands to run before going to the office. And I kept trying and trying and trying to get out of the house and I just couldn't make myself move fast enough. Everything took twice as long as I expected.

I made mango sticky rice. Without even thinking about it, that's what I made. The same food that I ate for days and days after The Coach left. Comfort.

I ate it while I drove. I nursed a second cup of tea. My head was all over the place. I had a few bags of donations to drop off at the Salvation Army. And then I wanted to buy new ballet flats. I am forever in need of a new pair of ballet flats.

I turned left out of the Salvation Army parking lot, even though, unknowingly, I could turn right to get on the expressway, too.

I turned left and then I got into the left turn lane at the next intersection. There was a big semi-truck that got into the turn lane ahead of me. And I was in a daze. And I must have assumed that, if that big truck was going, that the left turn light had turned green.

But it had not. And I pulled out in front of a car. And got hit. And it was my fault.

I got a ticket. I got bailed out of my mess by my father, yet again. He works in the automotive industry (this is Detroit, after all) and he arranged for a tow truck and picked me up at the scene of the accident.

If I had to get into an accident. If my car had to be undriveable. I guess this was as good as it was going to get. He was on his way to the airport - off to a car show - and we continued on to the airport, where I dropped him off and took his car.

"You know, I'm really impressed," my father remarked one of the half-dozen times I talked to him on the phone in the 30 minutes between the accident and when he arrived. "Your mother or your sister would have called me crying."

I didn't cry. I wanted to cry. But I wanted to cry long, long before the crash. I had wanted to cry since getting out of bed that morning. Since learning about Darren the night before.

I arrived at work only 45 minutes late. Still in a daze. About Darren. About my accident. About the bruise on my knee and how much money this mistake would cost me and, ultimately, how fortunate I was that it was not worse.

7 comments:

k said...

many many hugs to you! perhaps you need a mental health day. i had a friend pass away this spring and taking a day sit at home and be sad was really good for me.

Kari said...

Hoping today is better than yesterday. Glad you have a date with Lucy tonight...

Anonymous said...

I'm glad you are okay. I'm so sorry about Darren.

Accidentally Me said...

Oh you poor thing! I don't think I have ever read a blog post and wanted to give someone a hug more than this:-(

Glad to hear that you are mostly OK...and hoping that today is a much better day.

Mrs. Architect said...

Oh sweetie, when it rains it pours! But the good news is that storms usually blow out quick and leave bright sunny days. :)

Thisisme said...

oh geez!! so sorry lady!! I hope things start looking up soon!!

Teagan B. Sawyer said...

Okay I'm just catching up after being internetless for days. And I started with your older posts (and commenting) and my heart is breaking for you and this rough patch. Sending hugs your way. Hang in there. I can't even begin to tell you how strong you are.

 
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