Point of view

Once, maybe fifteen years ago, I was driving on the freeway with my former husband.  It was quiet, late at night.  We drove past an accident that had likely just happened.  No paramedics were there yet.  The two cars were in the shoulder of the fast lane, up against the center divider.  I saw a suitcase, burst open, clothes making their own path along the roadway.  The fabric flapped around a little in the breeze, illuminated by the street lamp.  It made me so sad to see. 

We didnt’ stop because it was the middle of the freeway and neither of us had real medical training.  After a quiet minute, I said something about all the clothes and how that really struck me as we went past.  He didn’t see any clothes.  Or suitcases.  Just the people, who seemed to be okay.  The suitcase wasn’t there, he said.

I can still shut my eyes and picture what I saw. 

I’m so intrigued by that moment.  How we saw two totally different scenes. 

3 thoughts on “Point of view

  1. Marsha

    The new header is very pretty. My husband and I have different recollections of events all the time. When he reads my blog he always points out where he thinks I am wrong.

  2. marian

    wow. you’ve been posting a lot!

    what i find is interesting is not that he wouldn’t see the suitcase, but that he would insist that if he didn’t see it, it wasn’t there…


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