“I don’t recognize any of this.” “It’s alright, Mom,” I said, and tried to keep the heartbreak out of my voice.

We got out and walked down the sidewalk toward a small park at the end of the block.

And then the world tore open.

A horn blared, enormous and close, and there was the shriek of tires losing their grip, and a heavy pickup truck came up over the curb and straight at us, and I did the thing you are never supposed to do — I froze.

I stood in its path, unable to move, unable to make a sound, watching it come.