I wanted to pull the rear bumper from her shiny SUV and smash it against her vehicle over and over and over again until it was impossible for her to drive it away. I wanted her to cry, be scared, and I donâ€™t know what else. But I wanted to make an impact on her psyche as well as her car.
Ian and I had just come out of Kroger and were walking to our car through the parking lot. As is so often the case, Ian was drifting along a couple of feet behind me, probably imagining great feats of daring that he would later perform in the pool.
We were almost to our van when an SUV began to pull out of its spot. I realized immediately that we were directly in its path. I turned around to push Ian out of its way and made a loud, indiscriminate noise of warning. The SUV came to a sudden stop, narrowly missing both of us. When my heart began to pump again, we continued quickly on our way to the van.
As we walked, I looked to see who was driving the offending vehicle, hoping for an apology. Instead, a young, attractive woman with a couple of kids in her SUV spoke the words, â€œYou need to keep a better watch on your kids.â€
That did it. I looked at her with eyes wide open and screamed as a woman gone mad, â€œI was behind you, too! YOU are the one who needs to look where youâ€™re going! You could have killed us both!â€ I was still yelling at her when her car rounded the corner out of the parking lot. Iâ€™m sure my face was either flushed or drained of all color, and my heart was pounding as if it was trying to release itself from my chest. I didnâ€™t care who was listening or watching. I learned through three C-sections that dignity doesnâ€™t matter where life and death are concerned.
Surely, this woman must be masquerading as a decent, responsible citizen in her lovely, well-kept body, with her lovely children and her lovely, new vehicle. Apparently, no one bothered teaching her about a lovely sense of responsibility and humility. Or perhaps she hadnâ€™t cared to learn the lessons.
In the van, I sat breathing deeply and then turned to explain myself to Ian who was uncharacteristically quiet. (After all, itâ€™s not everyday that his mom freaks out in a parking lot.) I told Ian that this lady had almost irrevocably taken away our health or lives and that she wasnâ€™t even sorry about it. Then I launched into an informative lecture. â€œDriving…….. blah, blah, blah………. is a huge responsibility……..blah, blah…….. pedestrians……….blah, blah, blah……… always have the right of way……………blah, blah, blah……..â€ Silly, perhaps, but somehow, it made me feel a bit better. Ian even seemed a little interested.
On the way home, Ian rehearsed the parking lot scene aloud, probably hoping to get it down cold so he could tell Christian and Sophie with ease. More than likely he viewed the event as a little excitement in his day. But I hope that he remembers to watch for cars that donâ€™t care if heâ€™s behind them or not.
I suppose it was my mistake to trust so willingly in the caution and responsibility of others. I will be more careful in the future. But if it happens again, I canâ€™t guarantee I wonâ€™t become a crazed woman once more. My life and the lives of those I love are too precious to let go with a milquetoast kind of response.
Perhaps I’ll keep a nail gun in the van to aim at the offenderâ€™s tires next time. Or maybe I’ll just call on Mr. Furious to save me.