I ran some errands after work tonight.
I usually don’t do that. I either rush to daycare to pick Maggie up, or rush home if Mike picked her up.
But I was feeling a little pressure to get some Christmas shopping out of the way and was only going to stop at 2 stores that were right next to each other and not very far out of the way from my usual route home.
There was heavier traffic than normal, so it took me longer than it should to get there. There were long lines at the checkout at both stores.
I finally got back to my car and was on my way home.
There were two different routes home. I chose what was normally the quicker one, anxious to get home as soon as I could to see my little girl.
Within a mile of leaving the store, I was stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic. Taillights as far as the eye could see. I inched along, so bitter that the traffic was eating away at the precious minutes I get to spend with Maggie. I felt cheated.
The two lanes of cars were funneled into one, and I got closer and closer to a line of police cars, lights flashing. Two medics loaded a person on a gurney into an ambulance. The ambulance pulled away, no lights on.
I passed the scene of the accident. One of the cars was being loaded onto a flatbed.
It was MY car. Same make, same model, same color.
As both lanes opened up, I was able to drive faster. Tears streamed down my face.
I got home to my husband and my baby.
And cried a little more, so thankful for both of them, and so thankful that I was able to be there with them.