“Darlin’ you came about six inches from gettin killed.”
I stared up at the sheriff’s deputy who was helping strap me to a gurney after pulling me out of the mangled mess of my little car after a woman and her pickup truck slammed into me while texting, barreling down the wrong side of the highway doing 80 miles an hour.
Thank you to my Llano County neighbors and VFD, for stopping to help me, and to tell the troopers and deputies about the woman in the wrong lane, about how she said she “wasn’t looking,” and that she’d just had her car repossessed and was driving a friend’s truck that she “didn’t know how to drive.”
Thank you to the deputy, who sat with me until the EMTs arrived, and told me it was okay to cry.
Thank you to the EMT who strapped me to the stretcher and promised “not to drop” me when I was disoriented and was convinced I was going to fall off.
And thank you to the woman who rode with me in the ambulance, holding my hand, telling me everything was going to be all right.
And to the woman who hit me because she was roaring down the road into oncoming traffic at 8:45 in the morning, not looking because she was texting–please. Hang up and drive. The next time, you might kill someone.