"Ow." I thought as I tripped over the sprinkler head that dark, Fourth of July evening, landing to my knees on the sidewalk.
"You alright?" Grandma asked as I stood and brushed myself off.
"Yeah." I said, running back into Aunt Janet's house. I'd needed the bathroom, not a face plant.
I was washing my hands when I looked down at my legs. Low and behold, there was a circle of raw skin, signifying the classic scraped knee. I was surprised to see it there; I felt totally fine, it didn't even hurt.
Immediately I was struck with intense pain.
Fast forward nine years.
"Hey girl," Ashley said, walking around my car after lunch. "What happened to your car?"
"What?" I asked, shocked, expecting some scratch mark from Hades.
I rounded my back bumper.
No worries, there's no scratch.
I couldn't believe myself. The only time I could figure this happening was the day before.
I'd been driving around for a day without noticing my baby was hurt.
I've always considered the MrazMobile as an extension of my arm. Its name suggests it's a boy, but I'm so in tune with it it just has to be a girl. I can't make up my mind, so I only ever call it by its name: MrazMobile.
I could not believe I hadn't seen, I hadn't felt that epic dent. I couldn't believe a part of me could be injured so terribly and not have demanded I know so. How could I have been so dumb? How could I not have walked around my car, at least once that day? Why didn't I move my car at lunch, or even after school?
I'm so protective of it, you think I would have at least scoped it out once I got outside. But I didn't. I left it in harms way and out of my mind until someone pointed it out.
And like the Fourth of July, somethings just don't hurt until we see them. And once they're noticed, they absolutely kill.