My mind wondered. As I drove towards our district’s high school, I thought about all the times I had made the same trip to retrieve Adi and then Rose from preschool. The idea that it was Monday and that I should try to think of a slice idea floated in and out of my mind. Inspiration for writing has been scarce. ETA 11:55. I won’t be late to my meeting, I thought to myself as I drove towards another meeting…

I turned up a one-way street, noticing a FedEx truck on my left and the driver moving quickly to get in, to deliver more holiday joy, I assumed as my windshield wipers cleared the mist falling from the sky. Right as I passed the driver, a slight grin on my face, I was jolted back to reality as I heard an unnatural thwack. Had someone hit me? I quickly glanced around me, trying to make sense of the noise I just heard. I saw pieces of a vehicle scattered on the ground. Were they mine? A few more quick glances and I realized that the pieces belonged to a mail truck parked opposite the FedEx truck. Had that been there the whole time? I looked to my own side mirror, now pushed in, towards the passenger side door. Had I hit the mail truck?

As I pieced the puzzles of the prior moments together, it became clear that I had hit the mail truck. I began to calculate my next move. I looked around for the mail carrier. No sign of them. I’ll admit that for a second, I contemplated just driving away. But I knew that wasn’t an option. Instead, I parked my car, threw on my hood to avoid the rain, and approached the mail truck. As I got closer, I realized the mail carrier was sitting in the truck. I waited a moment, standing awkwardly by the side of his truck before he rolled down the window.

“I’m so sorry!” I blurted as he pointed to the phone at his ear.

“I’m on the phone with my supervisor,” he said. I stood there in the rain a moment longer.

When he finally hung up his phone, he told me that he had to call his supervisor back and call the police. I apologized again and offered to help him deliver some mail, not wanting him to get behind on his duties.

He ignored my offer as I muttered that I was just going to go back to my car.

As I walked back, another car approached. My sweet friend Erika, on the way to the same meeting I was now going to be late for. She stopped as she got close, rolling down her window. “Are you ok?” she asked, concern all over her face.

“I’m totally fine,” I assured her. She offered over and over to stay with me, but I really was fine. I was surprised I wasn’t feeling teary. I haven’t been in an “accident” since I was 16 and my car gently slid into another car at a stop sign on an icy day.

When I was finally back in my car, I texted my husband as I rummaged through my glove box. Did I have an up to date insurance card? Was my registration expired? Everything was current and I placed it in a pile, ready to hand over to the police when they arrived. “Will the police yell at me?” I texted my husband. Anxiety started to creep in as I awaited their arrival.

When the police finally arrived, I braced myself as the officer approached my car. “You’re not in trouble,” he said right away. I relaxed a little as he asked for all of my paperwork and was suprised to see I had it all organized and ready. I explained that I was a teacher, now late for a meeting.

He promised to get things taken care of quickly, before assuring me again, that this was no big deal.

As the officer processed the paperwork, the mail carrier’s supervisor arrived at the scene. He approached my car, kindly asking if he could take photos. “Was your car damaged?” he asked.

I admitted that I hadn’t really checked. Again, I put my hood up and exited my car to assess the damage. I was relieved to see a minor scratch on my side mirror, that I tried to rub away with my finger, only to realize that the scratch was made of shards of glass….from the mail truck?

As I got back in my car and looked down at my now bleeding hand, I felt the tears beginning to form, mostly from embarrassment of all the day’s I had interrupted and grateful that each person I encountered treated me with kindness.

I dabbed at my eyes with the tissue I had wrapped around my bloody finger, determined not to be the crying girl in this scene.

The officer returned my documents and told me to get to my meeting and to “drive safe.” I thank him for his help as I tucked each paper back in it’s proper spot.

As I drove off, now 25 minutes late for my meeting, I rehearsed for my entry into the meeting. “I just wanted to add a bit of excitement to the day…” was the line I decided on as I took a deep breath and made my way in.