I watched the arm come out of the window of the car in front of me and normally someone would say, “it was all a blur after that”, but not for me.
Time actually changed. The world slowed and I remember every move, every breath, every feeling as I watched what appeared to be a metal ball hurled out the window straight at me.
I didn’t want to duck as somehow I knew the importance of holding steady and keeping my focus but somehow, no sooner had that thought come, another told me to bend slightly to the right with my upper body.
Not a Scratch
The impact was ear shattering.
The glass was a furious storm of destruction. Later I’d find that the glass, which we occasionally still find even after a complete detailing, had gone through my coat and sweater. I literally had to pick it off of my skin. How?! How is that even possible?
Yet I had not a scratch.
I crossed a lane of traffic on the freeway, grateful that there was a shoulder and pulled to a stop.
The car rocked as if we were in a wind tunnel as car after car rocketed past us, totally unaware of what we’d just survived.
And that’s when the windshield began to sag in towards the dash.
The sounds of glass fracturing and shattering as new cracks chased each other across the windshield like a playground of children finally being released from the confounds of a classroom to the freedom of recess.
A quiet voice from the backseat, “Mom, what happened? I’m scared!”
Not the First Time
That wasn’t the first time my life has been spared.
In fact, with 3 children, countless other stories and a future ahead of me, this is one of many stories I could and will tell.
And I guess that’s why I waited to share it.
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