Give Me Closure

No, this is not a post about shaving products, although I should probably do that out of courtesy for my husband. My leg stubble pricks his skin.

It’s been over a week since “the incident” and I supposed I can talk about it.

Almost two weeks ago, we went to breakfast in the morning at one of our regular restaurants by the beach. I was fidgety the entire meal. I didn’t feel “right” but it wasn’t exactly physical illness I was feeling. Later, we went to Trader Joes where we buy groceries. We parked across the street like countless other times when we’ve shopped there.

As we were heading back to our car with groceries, we stopped at the center island to wait to cross to the other side. A car stopped and the lady in the car waved me to cross. Not wanting her to wait too long for me, I began bounding across the street. I did not see a black SUV in my blindspot as it was coming up alongside the stopped car.

My husband yelled at me to stop. My brain didn’t register. It was as if my brain did not understand what my ears were hearing. If that SUV didn’t slam on its brakes as hard as it did, I would have been either severly injured or dead.

My husband was extremely traumatized by the whole incident. I spent the rest of that day in a daze and the rest of the week feeling unreal. Guess I need to relearn the same rules of crossing the road that little kids already know, but I swear to God, I did not see that black SUV coming.

I almost died that day. Thank God I didn’t.