A Life Yet to Live

A rainy night, a flying umbrella, and one very rude interruption to my plans

Photo by Lotus Raphael on Unsplash

It was raining cats and dogs as they say in this part of the world. In my home country I knew a guy from Isfahan who used to say it is raining like a donkey’s tail, whatever that means. I was coming back from running a not so important errand. I think a lot about how life is unpredictable, how you never know what comes next, and how your life can change forever in a split second. I have experienced these defining moments throughout my life in different forms, a phone call, an email, a dead silence in the house, a headline. But what happened next was never in my cards.

There is a newly painted pedestrian walk in the middle of our street, apparently to make it safe for the usual jaywalkers, since the ones at the two crossroads are too far for people to walk to in this busy street. Whenever I am walking I am doing a lot of mental calculation about which route gets me home faster, showcasing my enthusiasm for physical activity. Often I have to go back to the vague remnants of what I remember about geometry and how this route will create a rectangle and the distance will be the same anyway and all that. But I thought to myself, if I cross the road here I can get under the roofed sidewalk and maybe get wet a little bit less in this rain.

Demi Lovato was singing in my ears:

You make me gloooow

But I cover up, won’t let it shooooow

So I’m putting my defences up

‘Cause I don’t wanna fall in love

If I ever did that, I think I’d have a heart attack

I think I’d have a heart attaaaack

I was reviewing my plans in my head. I would be home in less than five minutes. I would put the kettle on, change into my pyjamas, and get under my duvet to finish this new book I was reading that is on the top five romances of 2025. Then I would do a writing session to get my daily word count. It was supposed to be a peaceful evening, reading and writing with the sound of rain on the window.

I looked to the left, no cars, stepped on the line, looked to the right, and a black SUV was coming my way with its blinkers on. I crossed to the middle of the street and the car was turning left, but before I could realize what was happening, in my peripheral vision I saw a blinding light coming my way. I thought to myself, it will surely stop before the pedestrian line, right? Worst case scenario, it will brake close to me and I will need to jump a bit to my left. Then I would look back at the driver, pointing to the pedestrian line saying Hey!, and they would say Oops, sorry, and we would go our ways. Right?

Turned out I was sorely mistaken. The driver did not see me and I was too sure the car would stop to change my course. The next thing I know my umbrella was flying up in the air and I realized I was also in the air and about to crash on the asphalt. For a split second I thought, is that it? What if I hit my head?

The next thing I remember is sitting in the middle of the road, terrified to move my legs. I took out my AirPods, now hearing people screaming Oh my God, is she okay all around me. There was a white haired guy trying to help me, asking me questions I could not fully process, and I could not feel any pain. My adrenaline was through the roof. The lady who was on the phone with 911 yelled, they say do not move her, she might have internal bleeding. I was thinking, are they talking about me? This cannot be happening. I am going home. I need to go home.

If you have carried on reading until this point of the story, I am obligated to tell you that I am fine. Miraculously so. Nothing is broken, physically.

There is a mental picture I will probably never forget. Me sitting on the asphalt, soaking wet, and an ambulance, a fire truck, and a police car surrounding me. Then the whole business of spelling out my name started because no one can pronounce it correctly. And me thinking helpless and alone, surrounded by people who do not speak my language and me trying to find the words to explain what happened. Believe me, speaking in a second language under duress is a whole other level of difficulty.

I am not saying I had an epiphany after this and now I am seeing life in a different light. Maybe I should. I am not even taking inventory of the people who cared for me and got worried and all that. I am grateful for every single one of them. The ones I know would miss me.

What I am trying to remember is what went through my head in those moments. And the one thing I do remember is thinking, I have unfinished business in this world. I have a life yet to live, the one where my unfinished novel gets to see me typing The End.

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