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When it happened, I was sure I knew the description of the truck that hit me. I said it over and over again with total conviction that the description was correct. When it happened, I was hysterical. I felt like the world paused and I was the only one who wasn’t crazy… only it was the other way around. My world did pause but I was the one babbling like an idiot. Now, a few days later, I’m almost sure I described the truck that hit me incorrectly.
It was white.
Not black.
I’ve been reflecting on it all day. It makes me feel like I’m insane because I remember it so clearly as a white truck. How could I have said, comfortably over and over, that it was black? They always say that during crimes, witness reports are unreliable. They say that when people are in situations of high stress, or when things happen quickly, that they can’t recall what happened with 100% accuracy. I never understood how that could work. I always told myself when something happened, I’d remember it. I’d take in every detail and I would remember.
Maybe that is why I feel the way I do right now.
[ none on the Line ]
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