Rite of passage
Sorry if you’re tired of reading about it, but I can’t help it if I suck at driving. However, I’m starting to think that maybe one of those times I had trouble with the car might have simply been a much overlooked step to overcoming divorce.
Today was one of those unsettling days, where negative energy just kept building around me and no amount of push-ups or side plank reverse flies seemed able to drive it away. The day started with me standing by the phone, waiting for a call that never came. Thankfully, it wasn’t romantic in nature. I don’t really have to worry about those coming or not coming. I started to get nervous about being the queue-buster tomorrow at work because I haven’t done it before. Then, I got a text message from a friend telling me she hit a car on the Micron freeway exit. Luckily nobody was hurt, her car will look like new after a trip to the body shop, and she even made it to work rattled, but somewhat on time.
Victoria is the third woman I know (including me) who gets in a car wreck shortly after getting divorced. I ate the back of a white pick-up truck in 2009 on my way to the Flying M to meet Diana for coffee, who had a similar experience as a born-again-single when she rear-ended the bitch in the BMW. I was the only one who totalled her car, but what can I say? I used to be a girl scout and maybe it’s different in the States, but in the Basque Country a scout doesn’t do things half-assed.
And here I was blaming myself for busting up my second Saab in ten years when, apparently, it was nothing more than a rite of passage. Looks like the day is looking up after all.