Roadkill

It's not always sunny, Susan.
.
1 month post-crash, and there are good days, and there are not-so-good days, and there are bad days. Today, I am pissed and vindictive. I want compensated for everything, to redeem every damn cent from the driver, enough so that I can build a time machine and get back what I've lost. Not just in this one month, but in the time leading up to it, and then everything after. The hours I missed with family and friends because I was training every day or more, the sanity of organizing & overthinking, delaying my biologic clock another year because "yolo," the feelings of uselessness and inadequacy, and the excitement and anticipation of it all. How far back would the time machine take me, to get me off that road in Kentucky?
.
I want him to remember everything: the surge of adrenaline (or hatred?) he had when he saw me, the sound of my soft, squishy body against his car, how that felt from inside the shell of his vehicle. Was it like hitting a squirrel, buddy? What prompted you to finally stop and come back to the intersection, was it shame or duty? How about the sound of me screaming in the middle of the road, completely aware of every nerve ending and blind with pain? Were you offended that I screamed 'fuck,' because it's was the only way I could stay awake? Offended that a man who was not my dad, brother or husband was holding onto me so I didn't crawl off the road like roadkill? Do you remember the look on my face when you finally fessed up to hitting me? Incredulation, because you looked just like my grandpa. Fear, because I realized I could not respect my elders and hate them, too.
.
Forgiveness takes time, and eventually, I will. But I will never forget what I lost and what has kept me up at night, and I hope you don't, and I hope you tell your children, and grandchildren, and your friends and your friends' families and friends what you lost and will never forget the day you broke two laws and then hit a cyclist.