With my move to Nevada, I left behind friends I adore in Georgia. So in addition to spending time with Fred and George on my whirlwind visits, I try to pack in as much reconnection time with my tribe as possible. That’s a challenge for an introvert—something you might not realize I am.
On my most recent visit, largely consumed with Dragon*Con with my sons, I managed some reconnection time with my chicks. But I left with pangs of regret for a few I wanted to see but didn’t.
Upon my return to Nevada, I got an email from one of those friends. A woman I admire more than she knows. It was a confession. She’d had a close call with a motorcyclist. She didn’t see him.
This woman is extraordinary. She’s not an “idiot” driver. But she is human and was lost in thought on her way to volunteer in her community. I could tell she was crushed by the encounter. The distress in her message broke my heart. I knew how hard it had to be for her to write those words and share them with me.
This is a woman who came to my side after my crash at the hands of an inattentive driver. She helped bathe me. Comfort me. Even in the midst of her own family crisis, she was by my side. She’s seen first-hand the horrific injury, pain, and suffering that comes in the aftermath of a crash like mine.
And still, she had to confess to not seeing a motorcyclist. To be fair, the scenario she described did seem very challenging. That’s the thing though, we have a lot to take in when driving so it deserves all of our attention. I admire her more for owning her actions. She did not try to blame circumstance or the rider.
It’s that level of character we need on the roads.
She thought I might hate her. Hardly.
My dear friend, I love you.