I was watching the New York Knicks play the San Antonio Spurs when my mother got into a car accident.  I only learned about it extremely early that next morning when my father woke me up with a phone call at 5:30 a.m.  A long barrier separates the two pairs of lanes that make up Cicero Avenue.  It was late at night and my mother should have been sleeping.  She works as a crossing guard at O’Hare Airport and her shift starts at 4:30 in the morning.  Occasionally, she also works as a caregiver for the elderly and tries to fit that in as well as all the errands she runs.  She should have been sleeping, but, instead, she was out rushing around, trying to do whatever chores and odd jobs she could when all that could have been saved for the next day.  She was driving, likely going over the speed limit and there are some steep curves along Cicero Avenue.  You have to be careful.  It had been raining on and off all week, but my mother claimed that her car skidded through a puddle of oil and smashed sideways into the barrier.  She broke both her leg and her ankle and totaled her car.