There was a serious accident in the McClure Tunnel today. A child died. Of necessity, I chose an alternate route home, through the older part of Santa Monica.
The other drivers were so courteous as we all inched our way through less familiar streets. No impatience, no road rage. We all knew it would be a slow commute.
I switched the radio from my usual NPR News to a classical station for a quieter backdrop to my thoughts of death. I pondered how one moment, there’s a living breathing person, and the next instant, just a body. The person is gone. As L said to me the other night in a fit of teen existential angst, “Death is just so freaky.”
It will happen to all of us. Today was not my day, or yours. Drive carefully, my friends. Enjoy the view as you go. And be kind to one another.