A lorry rolled over my mother’s car. She was traveling with two of my aunts. She was pinned for some time. I don’t know how long. They were eventually cut out. They are in a hospital. She spoke to my sister on the phone. I don’t know what this means. One aunt has a broken wrist. Another has a broken leg. I do not know anything about my mother’s injuries. Phone calls are being made. Travel is happening. I do not know my mother’s condition. She might be all right. She might not. She might be all right today. She might not be all right tomorrow.
She had planned a weekend with her girlfriends. She was excited. Happy. Even giddy.
A lorry rolled over her car. The car is totaled, my sister tells me.
I do not know anything else.
I listen to Abbey Lincoln scream. It releases something. Writing is how I live in the world. Writing makes it real.
I will wait.