My mother always used to say that good things can come from tragedy. I don’t know what sunshine bullshit she was trying to feed me but I can confidently say she was dead wrong. My day had begun like any other. I had fought my sheets in our never ending battle of wits. Will I get up out of bed on time or will I succumb to the comfort of my bed until the last minute? That morning, the bed had won and I sprung out,electrified, to get ready for my job. In a whirlwind I got dressed, brushed my teeth and of course, grabbed a cup of coffee to bring me to life. Upon leaving I ran into old Jenkins, who I’m convinced has become a permanent fixture to his porch chair on his deck; I swear I never see him actually IN his house. I ducked my head in hopes to avoid his eye lest I get caught in one of his endless conversations on conspiracy theories, and managed to trip on the cracked sidewalk and proceed to spill my coffee onto my blouse. I cursed and Mr. Jenkins took this opportunity regal me on how our tax dollars are spent on Area 51 teechnology instead of decent sidewalks. I grimaced at him and sprinted back inside, hurriedly throwing on another blouse and had to forego the coffee if I hoped to make it to work. Little did I know that I would never make it to work. In fact I only made it another 25 minutes before my life was abruptly cut short. I hadn’t seen the car as it came careening around the corner, and in my rush to work I didn’t see it before it was too late. The last thing I saw before it all went dark was the endless blue sky so beautiful in its vastness and heard my mother’s words on tragedy.