hard, it is, to pick up your mostlovedandcherishedboi at the airport (after a very stress/pain filled week) and have the first few words out of your mouth be:

there was a car accident�

and watch concern and grief flood through him, grab hold. his precious grrlie and his brand new and expensive toy � damaged? and i explain things to him�

there was traffic, i was stopped, the lane to my left was moving, a SUV � Durango � dark blue, decided to pull out from behind me and into the fast lane, i was stopped, not my fault, he scraped the side as he passed, probably did not even know he hit me, a hit and run, no one stopped to help, no one got the plate�

and silence to my sorrys, something i thought to be the tone of the weekend, talk of insurance and claims. after inspection and car-eful care, the damage is almost unnoticeable, tiny scrapes of paint off of the rim � the rubber from their tires rolling away underneath fingertips.

*pshew*

for a while it has just been one annoyance or problem after the next. i tempt fate when i ask isn�t this enough already? but i say it anyway. it is hard to feel any different, hard to feel like we are not being picked on, beaten up.