So, the cars are home.
One is smashed up pretty good, but my beautiful wife wasn't hurt. She was shaken by the "one split-second" aspect of it all being so fragile.
There's no more lonely feeling than having someone smash into you in a vehicle.
I was supposed to be on a plane for Boston on Friday morning. We didn't have a working car and the airline was willing to refund the cost of the ticket to my client.
Given what happened on Thursday...I didn't roll the dice.
Live to fight another day.
So, I walked back to the car.
There was a calm after the storm.
Less than 15 degrees.
It was almost beautiful. A light wind. Roads still packed with snow.
The church lot was still half-filled with abandoned vehicles.
Buried underneath mounds of snow.
I hadn't slept well.
I felt a little sick.
Three hours of snow coming down...however many inches an hour.
Lives turned upside down.
We came out all right.
I almost hugged my car when I saw it.
Headed home, picked up the dogs, and went to the corner store for the paper.
Through the storm.
Onto the next.
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