I had a brush with death today.
I was driving about 50 mph with two kids in tow this afternoon when a car from the oncoming traffic veered over the yellow lines into our lane. I saw it coming and had the wits to steer onto the shoulder as this car continued to veer, nearly hitting us, but passed behind. I watched in my rear view mirror as that car slammed into the guard rail and then was redirected sideways into traffic.
As I heard the crunch of metal hitting metal I yelped, "Holy cow!"
I turned to see my passengers, safely buckled in looking at me in disbelief and a bit confused. "Are you two OK?" I asked.
"Yes," Zachary replied a little put out, "but you made me fall over."
"I'm sorry," I said.
"And also," he added, "Holy cow is a bad word."
I was too concerned with my jello legs and racing heart to reply.
I called the police later and told them all that I saw. I can only imagine the driver of that vehicle fell unconscious for some reason. A heart attack? Stroke? I can only guess. The police were all about taking information and gave me none. I can only hope nobody was seriously hurt.
The thing about brushing death is that everybody alive acts like death isn't just at the door. But it is, people. It is RIGHT THERE. People just go on filling their shopping carts and making small talk. It's nuts, really. Eventually, the adrenaline rush passed and I was fine. We were all just fine. I pray everyone in that accident today will be just fine as well.