I had such high hopes for this day. I got in my car, it worked. I drove to work, making good time.

Then suddenly traffic braked in front of me. Tailights shone bright red in my face. I slammed on my brakes and realized I was fast approaching the rear of a car.

I turned the wheel right, but skidded straight. I felt my legs lock on the brake and clutch pedal. My eyes zeroed in on the right rear side of the car in front of me as I neared it.

My vision cleared, seeing only the danger, my body tensed for impact, my brain calculating the distance and angle and speed simultaneously.

Then suddenly, the car turned. I missed impending doom by mere inches. I slid past three other cars in the lane. I came to a stop in the driveway entrance to a cemetary. Ironic. I breathed a sigh of relief.

I turned on my signal, merged back into traffic and my legs shook for several minutes as my body recovered from the shock.

I thought of how my husband would feel, if I were hurt, or gone from this world. Devastated. Lost.