Coming Home

The daily commute has its dangers. Driving home tonight, approaching a usually congested area, something was definitely amiss. It was too late for a back-up, and the slow-down started about a half-mile before it would normally begin. Flashing lights, many cars stopped on both shoulders of each half of the divided highway. Northbound- homeward- was moving, but slowly. Southbound only had a few cars straggling by at irregular intervals.

Nearing the scene revealed a grim tableaux. A small truck had crossed the median and was embedded in the front end of a sedan. The police were there with hydraulic spreaders, working on both vehicles through the back doors, in efforts to get to the drivers. Smoke was billowing from the sedan as an officer looked for fire under the gap where the crumpled hood had separated from the fender. Ambulances became visible in the rear view mirror. Creeping slowly past the wreckage, awareness of the "look - don't look" conflict overwhelmed. Glancing reluctantly, knowing that anything seen would rather be forgotten.