Long-Lost

"Hey. This is Jessica, your - with all sarcasm set aside - long-lost best friend. I'm really really tired of hearing about your life through a mass email. So call me, so we can talk...or something. 'K bye."

With the accident having happened earlier that evening (see post below), I had gotten more phone calls than usual - which is never very many. "Wow, I'm suddenly popular," I said to my husband as I realized there was yet another missed call and voice message. I dialed my voice mail and started walking to the kitchen to get some food. When I heard Jessica's voice, though, I stopped dead in my tracks. I couldn't believe it.

Jessica and I had become best friends right away, as far as I can remember. I can't think of a time when I knew her that we weren't. We were like all best friends should be. Rarely apart, Jessica and I never ran out of things to talk about. We knew how to push one another's buttons, which facial expression meant what, how to cheer each other up, and when we shouldn't try. I trusted her with nearly everything. We were there for each other through some of the most difficult times in our lives. We cried on each other's shoulders - perhaps as often as not. Those days when I couldn't stand being home anymore, Jessica was the person whose house I would go to. I would show up on her doorstep, tears streaming down my face, and she would let me stay. Sometimes my stepfather would try to keep me from going, but I would push past him, citing my mother's permission. I always paid for it the next morning though, and sometimes for days afterwards. My stepfather did not like being crossed.

When I left for BYU Jessica and I kept in touch at first, but as I have never been good at that sort of thing, I quickly fell behind in my communication. I know I made her angry, and hurt - and after a while I assumed she never wanted to speak to me again. I figured that if I was wrong, she would contact me. Apparently we were both figuring the same thing for 2 years. But it was she who took the first step and called me, and I'm so glad she did. I'd missed her.

On the Way to the Gym

The evening started out great, and actually ended pretty well too - but there was a slight disturbance somewhere in the middle. Around 5:30, to be specific.

I-270 is never a fun road to be on, from what I hear, especially in the evenings. But I was on it, during rush hour, heading up to Rockville to the climbing gym to try out rock climbing for the first time. (side note: it's FANTASTIC.) I passed an accident on the side of the road, and as I glanced over at it a second accident (a pretty bad one too) occured 2 cars in front of me. The man right in front of me slammed on his brakes, as did I - only I couldn't stop in time, and I hit him. Not very hard, but hard enough to roll him a few inches forward. I swore. Two minutes later we heard another accident happen nearby, and one of the police officers on the scene swore. A lot. It looked to be a long night for him. The gentleman I had hit and I were lucky enough to be the only 2 involved in our little portion of the chain reaction, so we could exchange information and be on our way. Simple enough. Neither of us were hurt, but were both a little shaken - it was both my first accident and his.

Now I can never again say proudly that I've never been the driver in an accident. Sad. It was kind of like losing my virginity - only not as much fun.