When we pulled back onto our street from church this afternoon we saw three vehicles parked in front of our home. One was parked in our driveway, and a group of about half a dozen people were mulling about. "This can't be good" The Man muttered. "I wonder what's going on."
As we pulled up in front of our home we saw this: Do you see that brick square at the bottom of the picture? That's where our mailbox used to stand. Apparently a teenage girl was driving home from her friend's house this morning, fell asleep at the wheel, and plowed into it. They had cleared the debris all out of the street and off of the sidewalk and were waiting for us to return.
When we got out of our car the girl came up to us, her face stained with tears, and apologized to us profusely. I couldn't help but give her a hug. Poor thing. Then we talked to her parents. Apparently she had just been in a wreck a couple months ago and they didn't want to claim this accident on their insurance for fear that they would cancel their policy. So we exchanged information. The cost to replace our mailbox. Approximately $1000. The cost to repair their truck. They guestimated at least $4000.
Here's the girl helping her family, The Man, Brandon, and some of our neighbors load the bricks into the back of their truck. They seemed like very nice people. Nice. Broke. People.
Suddenly, even having Brandon drive at seventeen seems to soon.