I’ve always seen my glass as “half full,” I think, and a couple of recent events really convinced me of this. I think I’m a pretty positive person, at least that what everyone tells me . . .
A couple of weeks ago, I was involved in a very minor head-on accident. (Minor and head-on are oxymorons, don’t they?) Anyway, an elderly woman hit me as we were both pulling out of driveways across from each other, onto a very busy state road. I saw her coming into my lane and I braked and she was just crawling, so we really barely hit. It was a beautiful, sunny day and I had just popped the top down on my convertible that my family had given me for Mother’s Day. All I could think of was my little ‘stang would be crushed and my wonderful family’s feelings would be crushed, too. I certainly didn’t want to be the first one to put a dent or ding in it.
I got out to see how the other woman was. Neither of us was hurt, physically, thankfully. We both just shook our heads, so sorry that it had happened. I encouraged her to pull into our farm market driveway (that’s where it happened) and I called our local police, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. Since it wasn’t an emergency, we must have waited 20 minutes or so. In that time, we chatted and she said that she used to sell bread to my mother-in-law at our farm market and what respect she always had for farmers. We then talked about organic gardening, insurance rates, and how she was afraid her rates might go up or she might lose her license. She was really a very nice woman.
What really surpised me was that the damage to my little red ride was very minimal, perhaps nonexistent. How is that possible with a head-on collision? When the cop finally arrived, he asked, “Where is the damage to your car? Do you really want me to fill out a police report?”
Wow! There really wasn’t any visible damage. Then, the young cop (young enough to be my son) told me what a nice car I have . . .and if I ever got tired of driving it . . .
Back to the 1/2 full . . . I was a little “gun shy” the next few days when I was pulling out, always looking left, right, and straight ahead, a few extra times . . . and all I could feel was thankful. I took this minor accident as a wake-up call. It could have been a lot worse and I really should pay more attention to the job at hand when driving instead of thinking of all the things I have on my “to-do” list.
I felt so lucky that this woman and I were both fine, really no damage to our vehicles, and we both had another chance to be more careful next time. Some people don’t get a second chance.
OK, there’s something else too, but this is really gross . . . I don’t think I’ll post a picture just yet. I had to go through a very ugly procedure recently to take care of pre-cancerous cells on my forehead. It was actually a chemotherapy cream that BURNS your skin–all layers—and then forms these VERY UGLY scabs that take forever to fall off before the new skin forms. All I could think was THANK GOODNESS for bangs (which I had cut to hide the ugliness, because I felt like a leper!) . . . and now thank goodness for the new, baby-like skin which I have now. . . and that I have a second chance to take care of it, to be smart enough to wear sunscreen and cover up, so it won’t get worse! (More on that later. . . as I do have pix, that my own kids are threatening to break out when they see me in the sun again!)
I was also concerned about scaring the children at school because I really did look like a leper. My doctor said I should use it as a Science lesson, but I really didn’t want 8- and 9-year olds to think their teacher was dying or something, so I hid it the best I could. A colleague suggested I should make up a good story to explain the scabs to the kids. I really wasn’t into story telling until this happened . . .
8-yr-old girl, looking at me, kind of strange. (I realized my bangs must have opened to reveal the crusty scabs on my forehead.)
Me: “Oh, don’t let that distract you. Just a little snowboarding accident.”
Girl: “How OLD are you?”
Me: “Old enough to know better. I should have been skiing instead of snowboarding. I’m a much better skiier!”
And that was that . . .
OK, so I’m pretty much a “half-full” kind of person, but what about you?
IS YOUR GLASS HALF-EMPTY OR HALF-FULL????