Sunday, May 13, 2012

i got in a fight with a mailbox.

This is a story about something that happened back in high school. Such fond memories. You don't even know.

Anyway, to set up a little background information so you know what kind of kid I was, I drew a picture.

This was me in high school:

Why are you looking at me like that? I swear. I was the most optimistic, smiling, joyful child in the world.

Okay, okay. I bore false witness. You got me.

Rewind. Try again.

This was me in high school:

Let's just say I struggled in the whole staying-awake department.

Second piece of background information: I lived in New Hampshire. Which is pretty dang freaking awesome. Except during the frigid cold of winter.

See, I like snow. Snow is great. Snow=snowmen and happy children and ice skating and icicles and hot chocolate and joy.

Unless you're living in New Hampshire in the dead of winter.

Okay. Background information? Check. Let's get on with this.

Once upon a time in a land far, far away, I had to sing the national anthem for a basketball game my junior year of high school. I drove to the school, sang my sixteen-year-old heart out, and then decided I was just too dang tired to make it through the entire basketball game. I decided to head home early.

Having recently gotten my driver's license, I was having a pretty great time driving that little car around. Even in the snow. Notice the smile in the picture. I was a happy camper.

Until I started to get cold.

I was freezing. Look at those chattering teeth! Now, don't you feel sorry for me? I sure do.

But a little voice in my head started to say, "Just turn on the heater, Jessica..."

I was solid. Unwavering.

But then that heater started looking reeeeeally great...

See? Glowing. I always take glowing things as signs from God. But this time I decided to stick to my guns.

No way, Jose. Nope. Not happening.


Dang it, New Hampshire was out to get me. It was about negative a billion in that car.

And the shivering was making it hard to drive...

I know what you're thinking; "Poor, poor Jessica..." It's true. Poor me. And that voice in my head started getting pretty forceful.

But then that heater decided to be lame and join in.

And it spoke words of truth.

So then I caved.

And life was beautiful. Life was grand. It got nice and toasty in that car.

Happiness filled my soul.

I even started to sing, I was so full of happy.

Happiness felt so good.


And suddenly I was wide awake.

I slammed down hard on those brakes right before I smashed into some random person's front window.


I panicked. I didn't even think. I just turned right around and drove home.

And I may or may not have looked like this:

I pulled into the driveway. And out came Mom. I have no idea how she knew that something was wrong, but she did. Moms have crazy sixth senses like that. Plus also, I was freaking Niagara Falls and my car was... well... not looking so great...

Meanwhile, back at that one house...


***Note: The mailbox was found lying on the next-door neighbor's front lawn. It was replaced. Also, I stopped crying. Eventually.