Hier Midi (Yesterday, Noon) by M

There is a canyon road not far from my house and I go up it and catch the freeway often because it's like so un-LA. And there are a few trails I can bound up less than 10min from my house also. I was up there on Saturday and as we passed a herd of cyclists (who love this run) I said, I always say, do not hit them. Do not. Because though at times there is a quasi shoulder and a median other times they have to take up a lane and even on a turn you can stray into the shoulder, because the turns are casual enough that you can easily lose focus and meander. If that makes sense- it's not challenging so you pay attention less. So on this road in particular I'm always, usually, aware.

I was sailing home down the canyon road, after meeting Tricia for a possible ahem, weekly accountability session where um, writing might be exchanged and or discussed, in the middle of the day no less. I'm into this whole new discipline thing where I make myself do things to negate the procrastination factor, aka French class even if the grades are harrowing, and the possible writing despite the terrifying inevitability of actual accomplishment, then the reading through the bible thing and the noting all my workouts thing... though i know it's a slightly unstable house of cards I see myself metaphorically approaching a mountain with Jesus (of course), so I'm okay with it. This sort of perseverance training.

Anyway all this to say my self-bubble was high as I came down the mountain, though slightly apprehensive of the pressure, and it was a good time. Until, I saw the body lying, diagonal, facing away from me down the hill, in the middle of the road- a rather broad, 3 inch band of blood stretching 3ft from their helmeted head. I braked firmly. Saw the cars, piling on the left, the concerned standing cyclist on the phone, staring away from his partner, who was lying as if asleep on their side. I saw a man flaring up a blanket and I thought oh jesus, is this person dead! But then he just covered the cyclists legs. And as I passed I saw a couple people running with towels out of the house on my left, set back into the hill and the guy on the phone almost searching me like he might ask me something, or tell me something, like he just had to say something.

And I thought, oh Jesus, don't be dead. Be okay poor cyclist. I hope you're okay. And luckily as I was proceeding down the hill- all the wind from my sails, the sirens came screeching my way. The fire chief, the fire engine, the ambulance. And hopefully it was possible that the blood loss would be stopped.

And then I got home, and went to Burger King and had a DoubleWhopper w/ cheese and mayo.... and I thought, fuck it. I'm going to eat this fucking burger because that's what I'm going to do. And then I stared into the computer screen a lot and thought of my friend who seems to see accidents all the time and wondered if maybe she cursed me. But at least it was something I could tell her right off the bat without a hello- I saw this cyclist get hit. I'm totally traumatized I said. And she said, I know, right! And I'm like mmhmm. Yes!

And there's nothing whatever I can do about it.

But tell it over and over again.

As I carry the impression down the mountain.

And back up again.