Christina ~ May 2

 

I can’t seem to get out of that supermarket parking lot, at least not without hitting another car, yesterday it was the Whole Foods parking lot where I backed into a car driving by, the two of us, both elderly ladies, stopping to exchange insurance information, wait for the police to write their accident report, the two of us connecting around the delight of grandchildren, whether living in a house was possible at our age (the snow removal, roof repairs, all that a house requires), and whether – and this was not me but my companion in the accident I had caused – and whether my driving into her passenger side door had kept us from something worse. “You could have been – or I could have been – driving down Route 9 at this very moment instead of standing here, stuck in this parking lot waiting for the policeman to write his report, and something terrible might have been out there on Route 9, an overturned tanker truck that engulfed you (or me) in flames . . .” Well, I’m taking liberties with her thought, the tanker truck is my idea, she just wondered if our meeting was meant to be.