In the midst of life...
Last Saturday Sam and I were driving north on Route 63, past rocky woods, old cemeteries, and horse farms. There’s also the Greater New Haven JCC, which I’d joined a couple of weeks earlier, after taking a fitness class I liked. A police car, siren blaring, zoomed by. A short while later we saw police and emergency vehicles swarmed around the exposed undercarriage of a car flipped onto its side, resting against a tree. “That doesn’t look good,” I said. For the next mile or so, Sam and I speculated about what might have happened. Heart attack? Deer dodge? After a minute, we changed the subject.
Two days later, waiting for Jeopardy to start, Sam was looking at his phone. “You remember that accident we saw on Saturday? Apparently, a woman died.”
“Oh my god, that’s so sad,” I said, remembering the way the car standing on its side. Disconcerting. To think that we had come so close to witnessing a fatal accident before continuing on our way, the overturned car a mere curiosity.
The next day my friend Amy called. We planned to go to the JCC for the fitness class I liked later in the week.
“I’ve got some bad news,” she said. “Well, sad news. They cancelled class because the instructor died Saturday morning. She was in an accident on Route 63.”
“That’s crazy. We saw that accident.”
I was stunned. The same instructor prompting us to squeeze our tushes when doing squats had been behind the wheel. According to the newspaper, Jessica Ciola, age 46, was driving a 2018 Jeep Wrangler when her car veered off the road, struck a tree, and came to rest on its side in a wooded area. She was pronounced dead at the scene.
I can’t stop thinking how two and a half weeks ago, living Jessica Ciola called me out. “I see a new face,” she said, “and please don’t hate her for how hard I push everyone today. Not her fault, that’s on me.” Everyone laughed. Class began. When it ended, I put away my free weights and rolled up my yoga mat, then walked over to thank Jessica for a great class, but before I could get to her, she was gone.
I figured I would tell her next time. Of course, the next time our paths would cross would be horribly different, except for the part about her being gone before I got there.
ncG1vNJzZmikkaq%2ForTUq66irKpjwLau0q2YnKNemLyue89ooKdlpJ2ybrnInaqtZZ%2Bbeq21xZ4%3D