I had a wreck yesterday on the way home from work.
I hit a patch of ice and lost control of the car and as it slid toward the guard rail, I yelled loudly, "Fuck!" and thought of all the things I haven't done.
Lots of people, when faced with the prospect of death, consider their god. Maybe they make a desperate attempt to get right with Jesus or whoever before sliding into the unknown, but I didn't really have any interest in that.
My first thought was of my husband, will he be ok? Then, it was of my book, which I am still revising. Then I had a few more fleeting thoughts about unfinished work and my lifelong companion Bunny, who would be at home as I slammed into the railing...
Continue at "A Cleverer Version of Myself"