Last night I crashed my mom’s car.
David had just closed the door to his house, his family just moved here last week, from a two bedroom apartment with five kids to a real home. I watched him climb the stairs with a spring in his step and couldn’t help but notice how happy he was.
I sat for a moment in the car appreciating the midnight silence; I was taking in the first freezing night in November that had everyone else hibernating. I briefly thought about how lucky I am to be friends with David, it had been a while since we last spoke, I mean really spoke. He left me as he always does, with lots to think about and new ideas to learn about. Not to mention the oxytocin produce. The street was well lit for many blocks down, for a moment I imagined landing a plane on the crowded streets of Brooklyn New York. After I snapped back into reality I took off, not as a pilot. Since I was a little girl the sound of chalk on a chalkboard causes the hairs on my arm to stand up, but the screeching from brushing by another car certainly caused the hairs on my head to stand as well. And then I froze. Right there in the middle of the street, put the car in park and did not move. The honking is what brought me back, not the five large hooligan looking creature in black hoods surrounding my car. Only then did I pull over to the side of the road. I called up David with shaking hands, “I just crashed the car, come out fast and bring cash, my parents are going to kill me.” I gripped onto the steering wheel for what felt like eternity and my life flashed right in front of me. I was in a jail cell, I looked the part, absolutely awful, I had never gone to college, got married nor had kids. Worse of all my parents and family, my solid rock and support, had abandoned me. With my eyes closed, out of absolute think air, I said the most important words of my life, “God whatever happen...
