Submitted by Matt

As I sat in my car, trying to make sense of what just happened, I felt like I’d been plucked out of time for a second.

Just as I was coming to terms with almost getting hit by that truck, I noticed something in my rearview mirror. There was this tiny car, an old blue sedan, tucked in behind me. I hadn’t seen it before the crash, but now it sat there, looking oddly like it had been there all along. Its driver, a little old lady with the kindest eyes, waved at me, like we were just two neighbors passing each other on a Sunday drive.

I didn’t even realize my hands were shaking until I tried to open the door and get out. My legs felt like jelly, but I had to see if everyone was okay. The truck’s driver was already out, scratching his head, looking shocked. I caught his eye, and he gave me a sheepish grin, mouthing a Sorry I couldn’t hear but somehow felt.

It was then that I noticed the old lady wasn’t there anymore. Her car remained, parked by the curb. I looked around, trying to spot where she might’ve gone, but there was no sign of her anywhere. It didn’t make sense, but nothing about that moment did.

As strange as it sounds, standing there amidst the chaos, I felt this overwhelming sense of peace settle over me. It was like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a cold day. Maybe she was an angel, or maybe it was just my way of coping with what happened. Either way, for that split second, everything felt right.

It’s hard to explain, but even as the car spun, I wasn’t scared. I mean, I should’ve been terrified, right? But instead, it was like I had a safety net wrapped around me, something—or someone—keeping me steady and calm. My mind, which should’ve been frantic, somehow settled into this eerie kind of quiet, like being underwater in a pool.

I remember gripping the steering wheel, expecting it to jerk out of my hands any second. But it was almost like an invisible hand covered mine, steadying the wheel, even guiding it somehow. I could feel my heart trying to pound out of my chest, but alongside that was this strange assurance. I knew I’d be okay, even if I couldn’t logically say why.

When all the chaos stopped and my car came to rest on the shoulder, I just sat there, dazed but unharmed. The radio was still softly playing some old classic rock tune as if nothing extraordinary had happened. I took a couple of deep breaths and looked around, seeing the world again with new eyes.

That’s when something brought my gaze back to the rearview mirror. The old blue sedan was still there, exhaust barely trickling, creating ripples of haze in the sunlight. It struck me then that maybe the little old lady hadn’t been just a figment of a stressed mind. Maybe she was more than just a passerby, maybe she was linked to that calm I’d felt.

As I sat there thinking, a car honked far off, snapping me back to the present. Slowly, I got out of the car and approached the other driver. We exchanged details and some nervous laughter, both secretly grateful that the worst hadn’t happened. I glanced again at the blue sedan, its spot now empty, like it had never been there.

Getting back in my car, I drove home feeling different. It was as if that unexplainable protection, or guardian, whatever it was, had planted a seed of gratitude and wonder in me. It made me look at life with a little more awe, a little more humility.

As I sat there in the car, trying to process what had just happened, everything around me felt strangely muted, like the world had hit pause. I remember staring at the dashboard, my fingers unconsciously tracing the edge of the steering wheel. It felt surreal, almost dream-like. Was I really in a car crash and walked away without a scratch?

I took a deep breath, my hands finally steadying as reality sunk in. My heart was still racing, but instead of fear, there was this odd sense of calm. I quickly checked myself over, half-expecting some bruise to appear out of nowhere, but there was nothing. Just me and a quiet, empty car, like it was all some weird movie scene.

Turning my head slowly, I searched the road outside for any sign of that blue sedan or its mysterious driver, but it was just me and the truck driver now. My brain felt fuzzy, replaying those critical seconds over and over without finding any real explanation for my safety. The calm, the sudden steering, the old lady—it all felt like pieces of a puzzle I couldn’t quite put together.

I stepped out of the car, the cool air feeling oddly refreshing against my skin. The truck driver was still there, looking at his vehicle like it was a long-lost pet. He approached, his face a mix of embarrassment and relief. You okay? he asked, genuinely concerned. Despite everything, I managed a nod and a weak smile.

Talking to him was grounding. We exchanged information, parting with an understanding that our lives had been intertwined in some strange, unthinkable way that day. I told him about the old lady, but he didn’t seem to know what to make of it either.

Back in the car, I spent a few moments just sitting there, staring out at the road where it all happened. I thought about life and how fragile it all is—how easily it could have been a different story. I couldn’t help but think about guardian angels and those unseen forces people talk about. Could it have been one of those moments?

Driving home, everything felt more vivid—the colors brighter, sounds sharper. It was like I was noticing the little things all over again, stuff I didn’t really give a second thought to before. The whole experience left me questioning things in a way I hadn’t done in years. There was this newfound sense of gratitude, a deeper appreciation for life’s odd twists and turns.

Looking back on everything that happened, I’m still kind of confused. I mean, I’ve always been the kind of person who tries to find a logical explanation for things. You know, science, facts, all that stuff. But this? This was different. Thinking about how that steering wheel moved on its own, the feeling of those invisible hands guiding me—it’s just hard to understand.

After the crash, I couldn’t help but think about guardian angels. I’d read about them in stories, heard tales from friends and family who’d claimed to have brushed up against the supernatural. I always nodded along, half-listening, thinking it was just people wanting something magical to believe in. I never really bought into that—it always sounded too fanciful for me. But now, standing on the other side of what could’ve been a tragedy, I found myself questioning those beliefs.

It’s not like I suddenly have this undying faith in divine protectors watching over my every move, but there’s something about that day that makes me wonder. You ever have those moments where you just know that some things don’t fit neatly into the boxes we make? That’s what this feels like.

Like, the odds were against me, plain and simple. By all rights, I should’ve ended up with more than just a story to tell. But here I am, safe and sound, my life untouched except for maybe a few more grey hairs. As I replay that moment in my head, part of me can’t help but be grateful for the mysterious and the unexplained. I mean, what else could it have been? That old lady with the kind eyes, she fit into the moment too perfectly. An anchor in the chaos.

So, do I believe in guardian angels now? Maybe. Maybe not in the way we might picture them—not with wings and halos or anything. But I’ve come to accept that maybe, just maybe, there are forces out there we don’t fully understand. Forces that nudge us safely through life’s tough spots, even if we’re unaware.

And you know, in the big picture, it’s comforting. To think that maybe, occasionally, we’re not entirely alone against whatever life throws our way. Maybe believing is just a way of acknowledging that there’s more to this world than we can see or touch—a little sprinkle of magic in the everyday chaos.

I still smile when I think of that old lady and her blue sedan. Now and then, I wonder if I’ll ever see her again. If I do, I might just walk up to her, say thank you, and maybe, just maybe, see if she believes in guardian angels too.