When Kei and I go to school in the morning, we make a left out of our complex. Yesterday morning as we made that usual left, we saw flashing lights and several police cars about half a block or so to the right. It's a good thing we're not going that way, I said to Kei as I made my usual left and continued on my way. After turning onto University and heading south about a minute later, a police car sped past us, siren blaring and lights on. Whatever happened must have been bad, Keifer said to me. I agreed.
I totally forgot about the accident, of course, until a few hours later when I went on Facebook and saw a post on my community page saying that a high school girl who lives in my development was hit by a car crossing the street on her way to catch the bus for school. Just about fifteen minutes ago, somebody posted that she was dead. A few minutes ago, another person posted that after two brain surgeries, she's not dead, but fighting for her life. Either way, her family will surely be affected by this accident for the rest of their days.
***
An excerpt from a text conversation between Griffin and me from just before 6:00 tonight:
Me: That's pretty apropos at this juncture. Check back in ten years
Griffin: I could die tomorrow
Me: No
Griffin: I could
Me: There could also be a world where ants are walking us on leashes
Me: I could star in Buffy
Me: You could be fat
***
An infinite number of alternate universes are definitely possible. I'm not about to argue with that. Somewhere, in another world, the girl who lives--lived?--a few streets away from me is just fine. She's sitting on her bed, maybe rolling her eyes at her mom, maybe sighing in that really annoying way teenage girls tend to sigh, and her mom is maybe thinking she can't wait until she leaves for school because she just can't take her anymore. Or maybe she's sitting with her friends looking at pictures on Instagram, stalking the boy that she likes. Maybe, even, in another universe the girl who lives--lived?--a few streets away from me is crying because she got in a fight with her best friend. In this world, though, she's not doing any of those things because in this world, that sixteen-year-old girl who lives--lived?--just a few streets away from me, who surely I must have seen at some point in the sixteen years since I've lived in this house, is either in critical condition or she's dead.
***
Parents don't go to sleep thinking their children are going to be killed shortly after waking up, and sixteen-year-old girls don't stand there in the shower thinking they're shortly going to die.
But sometimes they do.
I totally forgot about the accident, of course, until a few hours later when I went on Facebook and saw a post on my community page saying that a high school girl who lives in my development was hit by a car crossing the street on her way to catch the bus for school. Just about fifteen minutes ago, somebody posted that she was dead. A few minutes ago, another person posted that after two brain surgeries, she's not dead, but fighting for her life. Either way, her family will surely be affected by this accident for the rest of their days.
***
An excerpt from a text conversation between Griffin and me from just before 6:00 tonight:
Me: That's pretty apropos at this juncture. Check back in ten years
Griffin: I could die tomorrow
Me: No
Griffin: I could
Me: There could also be a world where ants are walking us on leashes
Me: I could star in Buffy
Me: You could be fat
***
An infinite number of alternate universes are definitely possible. I'm not about to argue with that. Somewhere, in another world, the girl who lives--lived?--a few streets away from me is just fine. She's sitting on her bed, maybe rolling her eyes at her mom, maybe sighing in that really annoying way teenage girls tend to sigh, and her mom is maybe thinking she can't wait until she leaves for school because she just can't take her anymore. Or maybe she's sitting with her friends looking at pictures on Instagram, stalking the boy that she likes. Maybe, even, in another universe the girl who lives--lived?--a few streets away from me is crying because she got in a fight with her best friend. In this world, though, she's not doing any of those things because in this world, that sixteen-year-old girl who lives--lived?--just a few streets away from me, who surely I must have seen at some point in the sixteen years since I've lived in this house, is either in critical condition or she's dead.
***
Parents don't go to sleep thinking their children are going to be killed shortly after waking up, and sixteen-year-old girls don't stand there in the shower thinking they're shortly going to die.
But sometimes they do.
