Last Friday we ate dinner at our friends’ house. After a delicious dinner and a too-short visit with Amy and Jeremy, I bundled Annalyn up and we climbed into the car. As I put the car into reverse, I looked down the dark street and saw headlights. I stopped, waiting to see if the car was moving. It wasn’t. So I backed out of our friends’ driveway.

And into a truck.

Did I mention the street was dark? That made it hard to see the small black truck parked across the street, even though it was RIGHT ACROSS THE STREET.

It took me a second or so before I realized what that CRUNCH was. But once I did, I immediately did two things. One, I slammed on the brakes and two, I covered up my initial reaction by saying repeatedly, “Darn it! Darn it! Darn it!”

Seriously. At our house, we spell out words like “dumb” and “jerk,” and I have gotten on to my father-in-law and brother-in-law more than once about their language. And yet, what flew out of my mouth when I smashed into a camouflaged truck last Friday night?

You guessed it. Not “darn it.”

Anyway, I backed right into that darned truck. So I pulled back into my friends’ driveway, jumped out and hollered up to their front door, “I just backed into a car!”

Sometimes it’s helpful to point out the obvious.

My friend came out, which was good, because I was pretty much just standing beside my car, unsure of what to do next. I know, it seems so obvious. Everyone knows what to do in case of an accident, right? But I was a little stunned for that minute. Okay?

While I was gathering my senses – or SOMETHING – my friend said, “Do you want me to take Annalyn inside?”

I said, sure, and she didn’t argue, either. Not surprising, since she’d thrown a royal fit about leaving in the first place.

My friend, Amy, took Annalyn back inside the house while Jeremy walked around both cars with his flashlight and camera. It turns out the truck belonged to someone visiting their neighbor, and long story short (HA!), I ended up having to leave a note.

So, about 20 minutes later than I intended, I put Annalyn back in her car seat and hit the road. Carefully. I hit the road and just a road. I promise.

And as I did? Annalyn recounted our whole adventure, over and over: “Mommy hit car. Darn it! Bonk car. Fix car? Who fix car? Back inside. Go back Amy’s house. For a little more fun.”

Yep, that’s exactly it, kiddo. We just hadn’t had quite enough fun.

Have you ever been in a car accident?

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A positive outlook does not run in my family.

Depression, on the other hand, does. The bad, serious kind. The kind that comes with substance abuse and suicide and therapy and medication.

The genes and chemistry that cause that sort of thing? The ones several members of my family have? Those are the same genes I’ve got. And while I don’t battle the kind of depression many people I love do, sometimes I get a glimpse into that struggle.

And when that happens, I can’t always keep it under control. It’s kind of like holding a beach ball underwater. Once it starts slipping out of your grip, you know it’s just a matter of time before that piece of slick plastic explodes through the water and lands just out of reach on the side of the pool.

That’s what happened last week.

I’m better now. It took a few days, sure. And about an entire box of Kleenex, my husband’s patience and several Advil. (See: therapy and medication.) But I’m back.

I won’t say “back to normal,” because, really? Yeah.

And now that I’m back, listening to the Flight of the Conchords sing/talk French nonsense and looking forward to an extra-large bowl of Golden Grahams and my NCIS fix, I want to say thank you.

When you read my post last week, it may not have made sense. I know it was a little vague. And coupled with a random music question. All of that may not seem risky to you, or vulnerable. But for me? It was a big risk.

I wasn’t sure what you all would say. Or if anyone would say anything at all. Nothing like baring your soul, even if vaguely, just to hear crickets.

[By the way, I saw someone make a whistling noise last week that sounded like crickets. I wish I could do that. I can’t remember who did it. Was it you? Please tell me. And then teach me how to do it.]

Anyway, thank you all for your encouraging comments and e-mails and chocolate (that one was Smitty) and dinner and hugs. Thank you.

This one’s for you:

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