The Jeep flipped over once, landing on its roof. It was a little past dusk on a wet spring evening. I was going too fast on the curvy country road. My front tire rolled over the edge of the asphalt and I must have over compensated. I was afraid to open my eyes. The strong smell of wet earth brought me into the present moment. Was the windshield shattered? I took in a breath and braced myself as I opened my eyes. The windshield was damaged and still intact. The smell came from my open sunroof. Tall blades of grass and young blackberry brambles were poking through, the now, floor of my car. I saw that my purse had landed not too far from me. I tried to grab it but my seatbelt, which thankfully kept me from injury, was still preventing me from moving. I unbuckled my seatbelt and fell to the roof of the car. I tried to open the driver’s side door. But the door wouldn’t budge. I rifled through my purse to find my phone. I called my husband, Jade. All of my senses were recounting what just happened but I couldn’t convert the information into a coherent stream of words. Music playing, wind through hair, thinking about dinner, hit the edge, cut the wheel, smashed the brakes, lost in space, stomach rolls, silence.
The Old Car
The Old Car
The Old Car
The Jeep flipped over once, landing on its roof. It was a little past dusk on a wet spring evening. I was going too fast on the curvy country road. My front tire rolled over the edge of the asphalt and I must have over compensated. I was afraid to open my eyes. The strong smell of wet earth brought me into the present moment. Was the windshield shattered? I took in a breath and braced myself as I opened my eyes. The windshield was damaged and still intact. The smell came from my open sunroof. Tall blades of grass and young blackberry brambles were poking through, the now, floor of my car. I saw that my purse had landed not too far from me. I tried to grab it but my seatbelt, which thankfully kept me from injury, was still preventing me from moving. I unbuckled my seatbelt and fell to the roof of the car. I tried to open the driver’s side door. But the door wouldn’t budge. I rifled through my purse to find my phone. I called my husband, Jade. All of my senses were recounting what just happened but I couldn’t convert the information into a coherent stream of words. Music playing, wind through hair, thinking about dinner, hit the edge, cut the wheel, smashed the brakes, lost in space, stomach rolls, silence.