Skip to main content
On the way home from school, Aaron (and Chris and Em and Devon) were sideswiped by another teenaged driver. The poor kid spoke very little English and was obviously terrified. Aaron wrote down a notebook page worth of information about the other car, the driver, the passenger; he had three addresses and phone numbers, license plate numbers, vehicle identification number… I think if the kid had had textbooks with him, Aaron might have jotted down the titles. He was very very thorough. The other kid didn't even take down Aaron's phone number. After my initial rush of terror when Devon started out saying: "Hello, Mrs. McPhee, I have bad news," (note to Devon, always start out by saying "we're all okay!"), I was just so relieved that they were okay, that Aaron and his passengers handled themselves so well, that they were smart and calm and kind to the other driver.

Of course, it took me until at least one o'clock in the morning to fall asleep. I kept thinking about what could have happened. Why the heck do I do that?

Comments

listeme said…
No worries!

Besides, I'm paranoid. I'd probably have been terrified even if you HAD said you were all right.
9:30 AM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

This has been a very long week -- perhaps 16 or 17 days, at least. I have been offered -- and accepted -- my younger sister’s finished basement for the next year and a half. This will be a major cost-saver for me and a big help for her (she has two toddlers and is expecting a baby in August.) So that was a humongous start to the week. My other sister and her teenaged son have had to make some really hard decisions. She gave me permission to quote her: “spent yesterday at the hospital with my son. about eleven hours. sitting here writing and rewriting this entry trying to find just the right words. how to explain-- he is not healthy. he is mentally ill. he is not safe at home. none of this really covers it. so here's one image from the day. we walk into the east wing at maine med escorted by security. the very nice guard LOOKS like a skinhead but actually has incredible kindness and compassion for my snarly boy. he tells us gently that he has to check ian for weapons and sharp o...
3 comments
Read more

Foggy morning

Next to my bed , I keep a pad of paper and pen (and flash cards and water and ear plugs and an alarm clock…). All the writer’s guides suggest this for writing down middle of the night inspirations. This is a fine plan. I’ve had great results. I’ve come up with solutions to difficult plot situations. Names of evil villainesses. Entire worlds. I’ve remembered doctor’s appointments. Occasionally the light of day reveals something less like a solution and more like the mystery of all mankind: “the plumber trumps! Seventeen children, be aware.” But usually the pad of paper holds something… useful. This morning’s result: One word. Mist. Is it a metaphor for my future? A laundry detergent? A new name for Sprite? A weather report? I don’t remember waking. My dreams remain stubbornly opaque. My subconscious mind obviously felt “Mist” to be of enough import to rouse me to reach for the pen. I even capitalized the word. Hmm. I wonder how many seeds of “great Ame...
Post a Comment
Read more
Life is a little tough these days. Taking a break. I will be back with more tales of grasshoppers and compost heaps and scrabble games soon.
17 comments
Read more