Near Death

It only happens just once or twice in your lifetime. But you will never forget it. That moment you are reminded of your frail mortality.

The earth quivers, sirens moan across your street. Your knuckles whiten. Your stomach lurches. Your breath is drawn inconsistently. Your composure falters as the assumption of survival shatters. Every word you did or didn't say has become eternal. Every frustration so obtuse. But you stand calm.

Yesterday, my tire blew on the freeway. It spun out before I came to a halt along the road. After hiking along the freeway and changing my tire in a downpour in a white skirt and heels, I came out of it happy just to feel the cold raindrops against my cheeks.

So, here's my tidbit for the day: life is far, far too short to live on bald tires. I'm still here, Rachel.

© 2011 by Rachel Lowry. All rights Reserved.