Cars and Drivers: Part Two

Continued from: [here]

I guess it's been about two months since I was involved in a multi-vehicle collision of the metaphorical variety. There they were recklessly trying to get somewhere-namely, under my skin. Not very complex they were: the textbook aggressor; short-sleeves rolled, left arm hanging from the window expressing an exaggerated facade of cool to hide the darkness and fragility. The other, an eager buffoonish sidekick-type pulled from the panes of a classic childhood cartoon. But, together they were coming for me fast and erratic-like, there was no time to strategize, no time to move, and nowhere to go, but down.

Again, I left wounded and ended up rationalizing, minimizing, lamenting and apologizing. Grrr, I thought. I just don't get it, I can't get it-and, I don't want to. I like it here, where there is no metal-only skin: soft and exposed; where my heartbeat is audible not drowned out by the din of a suped-up engine. I like being a pedestrian, I enjoy my slow deliberate awareness, I like the feel of the wind in my hair and the earth under my feet; the scent of flowers, birdsong and bees abuzz.

I spent some time in virtual hospice, thinking, writing creating; healing myself in prose and color-of course with a little help from my friend. And, wouldn't you know as I was-of all things-aiding someone close to me in their own quest for assertive awareness, I said, "I was hit by a car once-I have to consciously adjust my level of awareness as soon as I step outside. I don't wait until the car is careening for me. It doesn't have to be the same car, road or driver-I'm still the same me". I wanted so badly to make it okay for her to heal and move on with slow deliberation. I didn't want to lose another pedestrian, although having just been where I'd been, I wasn't sure if this was possible.

Unbeknownst to me, I was soon about to find out. To be continued...

What's with the "to be continued"? You see, I have a trunk show May 1st-Pauses for applause. Of course, I will need to make jewelry for it. And, since I must make jewelry, I have a sudden and uncontrollable urge to write and paint instead. Rolls eyes, grimaces, sighs and exhales heavily. I'm allowing myself moderate amounts of all, lest I go mad-or just become very er...um, "unsparkly".