By Lisa Johnson Mitchell
As I race along the highway on the slick wet streets, my hands death-gripping the wheel, I realize how at any second I could crash.
I could hit an extra wet patch.
I could have a stroke and pass out.
My tire could blow.
Then Bam. Flip. Crash.
Actually, truth be told, often as I drive, I have this unfounded, crazy fear that a foreign force will take over my car and send me careening into a concrete barrier or an 18-wheeler. (Not sure my anti-depressants are still working.)
Every breath seems precious.
Every raindrop on this misty street – necessary. Necessary for our world to keep going.
There is rumored to be a plan, a universal, mysterious design, for us humans.
I am then reminded of what I saw on the news last night. A driver lost control of his car and crashed into the front window of a day care center, killing a four-year-old.
Tell me, what was that plan?
We seem to all be so precariously poised on the head of a pin in an infinite universe.
We are so small.
In other news, the radio DJ is blaring out that Taylor Swift’s God-daughter was born. Find it on Instagram!
And then there’s the :30 spot for the perfect Selfie. (Gotta love ‘ole Narcissus!)
This string of very important info was topped off by a late-breaking announcement of Kanye West’s new album, “God Help Me.”
Yes, I say, God help me – God help us all.