I'm Just a Notch in Your Bedpost, But You're Just a Line in a Song.

Today I was stepping into the street, and looked left to find the front of a very familiar truck with a very familiar blue Santa Cruz auto dealer plate staring back at me.

Erin was walking next to me, and we were going to the Baytree to buy scantrons. We had stepped off the curb in a synchronized movement. There were no cars waiting at or approaching the stop sign in front of us, and the truck was still completely across the intersection. I had one of her ear buds in my ear, and we were listening to something, but I don't remember what it was. I didn't hear it.

In that instant of recognition everything around me evaporated, and I was no longer in control. The only thing I was aware of was that truck coming at me, and fast. For the majority of the moment I was convinced she would not slow, but would continue to claim my physical existence as she had claimed my faith in the ability of humans to treat one another with respect, and loyalty, and an unending kindness. Faith in the idea that people can simply get along, no matter their differences, and if they clash, talk it out.


All I saw in that instant was her, behind the wheel.
All I heard was the roar of the engine.
All I felt was the beating of my heart ceasing.


I don't know that she knew it was me, but I can assume she did. I don't know that I know whoever it was that was sitting in the passenger seat, but I can assume I do. I don't know that she saw that I saw her, but I can assume she did. I don't know that she appreciates that I made no move to indicate recognition. I can assume that it makes no difference to her. If I had waved to her (even the polite half-wave pedestrians give motorists for not killing them) I don't think she would have waved back. I think she probably would have assumed that I wanted to pretend I still know her.

It may have hurt her for me not to give her any recognition. She brought that upon herself. It is possibly (however unlikely) that seeing me today jarred something- dare I say it- human in her, and now she's going to consider what she did to me, and attempt an apology and reconciliation. If that were the case, I don't think I'd want to forgive her, but honestly don't think I'd be able to stop myself.

I don't know that I'm thinking about this way more than I should, or that she's not thinking about it at all, or that she never did, or that it didn't affect her in the slightest.

But I can assume as much.



I don't claim to understand how our world works, or why.
But I sure would like to know who decided to put me in front of her car today.
I would like to know who or what made her not hit me.
And I'd like to know who or what is making me wish she had.