Could Have Been Worse

"Paula" posted a question about whether I am still on speaking terms with my next-door neighbor, who backed into me with his SUV while I was mowing my lawn on Sunday, sending me to the hospital in an ambulance with my neck in a brace.

How this freak accident happened I attempted to describe in Tuesday and Wednesday's Plain Sight.

The answer to Paula's question is...

Yes, I am, and though we have been friends for years, I think we now share a deeper bond than either of us could have imagined five days ago.

We are both happy that I am okay. We are happy for each other, too.

As much as I would not want to be dead or mangled, I would not want him to have to live with such a burden for the rest of his life. Or his family, or my family.

Would I feel this way if he were not an incredibly warm, generous, bright and good-humored person? If he had not rushed to my aid and called 911 and phoned me several times in the hospital and came to see me when I got home? If he had blamed me for being momentarily in his path, turning my lawn mower around, just as he backed his SUV down his deeply shady driveway?

I can't answer these questions.

I can only say we can both imagine being in the other's shoes. It's hard to see through the rear window of an SUV full of stuff. He looked through his side mirrors and didn't see me, didn't hear the lawn mower.

Can I say I would never make such an error in those circumstances, being in a rush to do some errand for my kids? (He has four young ones; I have one, age 21, but I remember those hectic younger days.)

Would we have embraced with such relief and mutual good wishes had I arrived home on crutches, in a wheelchair, after an amputation, facing more surgery, facing months of arduous physical therapy or round-the-clock care as a result of brain damage?

When you count your blessings, and one of them is that you don't have to ponder such things, then you know how lucky you have truly been.

If you're wondering, this drugstore window is located on Main Street in West Orange.

It could be in the desert for all the sun that batters it when the clouds part. Cactuses and armadilloes can handle the rays. Old storefronts are like old people, like Tommy Lee Jones in "No Country For Old Men." You can read a life in the creases of his face.

I like this store and its weather-beaten exterior. But somebody should really rescue the chocolates. It calls for an intervention.

Tags: West Orange | photography

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