Anatomy Of A Zing


Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.


A couple of years ago I got hit by a car.

I was in the crosswalk and he was taking his free right turn.

He only stopped when I banged my fists on the hood of his car and yelled for him to, well I don’t know what I yelled though an ocean of profanity was probably involved.

That thud wasn’t me being hit, that thunderous thud was me pounding my fists into the canary yellow hood of his car.

He looked at me and I looked at him and I remember the look on his face. Fear. That’s what it was. He was really afraid.

People on the sidewalk asked if I was ok- from the sidewalk. The man sat in his car with his hands locked on his steering wheel.

I walked around to the driver’s window and he turned is head and he tried to say something. I think he asked if I was okay and I said.  ” If  miss my bus, you’re in big trouble.”

I didn’t miss my bus but I did end up with some nasty bruises on my hand.

Later that Summer I was trotting across the street and I stepped up on the curb and my knee went out.

Zing. That’s what it felt like, part electrocution and the sensation that something in my knee unraveled.

That was the last day I could hop off of the last step on the bus, that I could zip up and down the stairs at work, that I could wear heels and not have to worry about what it would feel like if I sat still for too long.

I didn’t realize until later that when Mr God Given Free Right Turn smacked me, my knee probably got smacked, but good by his car.


At the time I thought I had walked away from something that could have really hurt me.

Sometimes those zings hit you at light speed and sometimes they creep up on you.

But they’re out there.

Just waiting to fly.

One thought on “Anatomy Of A Zing

Leave a Reply