I'd like to think that I'll be able to get past this like one would get past ragweed season, but again, I'm sure it'll pop up in the way that I still think about the time I saw the body of a motorcyclist laying in the road, covered with a blue blanket. It doesn't still shake me up like it did at the time. I know this won't either. But I bet I'd feel even worse if I'd known that said motorcyclist was about to get creamed and still couldn't stop it or if I was talking to he/she on the phone as it was happening. Maybe two-wheeled transportation metaphors are my worst attempt yet at trying to make sense of it.

All I know is that I'm ready to not be mad and not let it make me feel like fish guts in some crazy pornographic French movie.