Posted on

The SUV.

I drove on US Highway 19, in the far right of three lanes of northbound traffic on a Friday.

Sun through the windshield.

Gungor through the speakers.

Twenty miles to home.

My brain was ready for the weekend. My brain was not ready for the SUV. I saw the underside of it first, while it flipped in the air over the southbound side of the street. I watched it land upside down, its roof crushed like a soda can against concrete. I watched it slide to a stop, across shards of shattered windows.

I at first only furrowed my brow.

The crash happened quicker than my body was willing to process it (in its defense of me, no doubt). I kept driving, and I grabbed for my phone. When I found it, I could see neither the 9 nor the 1 without my reading glasses.

I stopped trying.

I started crying.

And in my rear view mirror, I watched a fire truck follow an ambulance south.

– – – – –

This post is part of an occasional series of unrelated true stories, called “True Story.” Click here to read all the posts in the series.

Posted on

Three things.

There are now only three courses, two semesters and one comprehensive exam until I’ll graduate with my master’s degree in rehabilitation and mental health counseling.


‘Cause, one, I finished my summer semester with a final exam on Tuesday. 


Which means two, I am free from school for the rest of the summer.


And three, this is how I feel about it:

Posted on

The discovery.

Seventh grade science class.

I faced forward at my desk but reached for the floor to retrieve a book from my bag. In using my hand to find the bag, I felt the floor.

Then I felt the left rear leg of my chair.

Then I felt a tire.

A tire?

“Couldn’t be,” I thought. So I squeezed what I felt — something thick and tough, made of rubber. I rubbed it, built a frame around it using my fingers and thumb, pushed on it and pulled, and squeezed it again. “What is this?” I thought. I had to see.

So, I looked.

Which is when I made the discovery.

What I held in my hand was a shoe.

A shoe propped up against one of my chair legs.

A shoe with a foot in it.

“Ohmygosh!”

I let it go and flailed my arms in the air (like anyone would upon finding a foot).

Which is when it dawned on me that the foot was attached to the body in the seat at the desk directly behind mine. I looked up.

“Hi,” he smiled.

It was Drew.

We lost it. And when the laughter waned, I spoke.

“I’m sorry I squeezed your shoe.”

[callout]This post is part of a series of true stories, called “True Story.” [/callout]