I had a little fender bender. Nothing major. I allowed myself to get distracted while waiting for the light to change at an intersection and tapped the car ahead of me. Seriously -a tap. But to the dude driving, it was major. I didn’t have my phone with me so I couldn’t take any pictures.

It was a small spot and smudge on his rear bumper but you would have thought I had rammed him hard. We did the exchange of information and I asked him to text me the photos he took.

I made a report to my insurance, thinking I would just warn them that a claim would be coming from this guy’s insurance. I particularly specified that there was no damage to my car, I was merely sending information.

I did get the photos from the guy and only one photo match what little damage I originally saw. Bad move, not being able to take my own pictures. The ones I received showed more damage than I remembered, included a massive swipe along the bumper.

My insurance asked me to send photos of the damage to my car. Yes there are a few dings and scrapes, but it was a used car, 11 years old. Next thing I know, I’m getting an estimate for repairs to my car. I immediately wrote back and said I’m not claiming and damage. The scratches and whatevers are not new.

I was copied into a message from the estimator to the agent when he forwarded my email to her where I’d stated that I sustained no damage. Basically, “look at what our customer wrote.” I guess people don’t turn down money. However my latest email says payment is on its way.

I realize it doesn’t make any difference to whether my rate will go up or not. Next year I will pay more for my insurance just for making the report. The estimate for the damage they saw in the pictures I sent was $1200 plus. I have a $500 deductible so a check for $700 or so is on its way. Honestly, I should just take the bus, except I can’t always get where I’m going by bus. Story of my life.

Way back in the “olden days,” I was an unwed mother. Big shame to the family and impossible to stay there in town because of the shame. With the help of my college’s chaplain, I was able to recover my scholarship, resume my education, get my daughter into a good foster home, and graduate.

The funny thing is that the family that took my daughter in never actually gave her back. The lease on my apartment ended, and they took me in for the last month of my final semester. They helped me out financially by having me babysit their son and my daughter. They kept her while I moved to the big city to find a place to live and hopefully, a job.

Even after I picked her up for the “last” time, they took care of both of us. We always had their home to go to for holidays and vacations even after I got married. Even when we moved because my husband was in the military, they would fly my daughter to their town for most of the Summer. They had adopted two other girls, but always had room for their “other” daughter.

When I got divorced, my life was a mess, and I couldn’t handle an angry teenager, so they took her back. She lived with them and their three kids while in high school. They treated her as their daughter and their kids called her their sister. Never did they ask me for money toward her support.

They supported both of us emotionally and occasionally, financially. Her foster father walked her down the aisle when she got married in 2008. I made her foster mother stand in the photos with us as mother of the bride. Their home was where I went on vacation and for holidays,

A few years ago, my daughter lost the only father she had ever known due to age. And a few days ago, she lost her other mother to pneumonia-related breathing problems. The funeral is in a few weeks. I wasn’t certain I could go. My daughter wasn’t certain she could go since she changed jobs.

But her big brother and her sisters want her there. Her brother bought plane tickets for both of us as they consider us a part of the family still. So in a couple of weeks, I’m going help lay to rest the last of the couple who taught me about family and love in a way my “real” family never did.

Hug your parents and grandparents.

I knit, spin, sew, crochet, and weave. I make hand-bound books of various sizes. I take a watercolor class. I belong to a makerspace where I show members how to use equipment in the craft area, teach classes in bookbinding and do other crafts.  In other words — I’m busy.