This is the fourth in the series. It is about Kim Libecki, who I will always know as Kim Potter. I have known Kim since we were children, though we did not become friends until high school. I was a high school senior and I thought I was cool. She was a 9th grader. We had class together; we were also in a club that met every Monday night. She overlooked my arrogance, or saw it for what it was -- a lack of self confidence, and she accepted me. She still accepts me.
For a few years we were very close, but we drifted apart. I was away at college. She married and started a family. We wrote or talked or heard about each other through common friends; we became close again when her teenage son Zachary Reynolds Armistead was hit by a car. Her son would be starting his senior year this month. He seems so young. It was just the other day he was missing his 16th birthday. (This was one of my favorite posts.)
If my father had not died, I would not have known to reach out to Kim. If Kim's son had not died, I would not have reached out. We would still be drifting apart. Now she is one of my best friends.
I am also very proud of her. Through her loss, she has grown. She has become a better person. She is helping others. She helps me. Even though her life has been shattered, she seems stronger now.
For this photo shoot, we met at the corner where her son was hit by a car. Originally, Kim had planned for the monument to be placed at the skate park where Zachary loved to skate. It did not work out, so some other people built the monument at the condominium complex where Kim lives.
You cannot see from the photos, but the skid marks are still visible almost two years later. Kim sees them. Her family sees them. Zachary's friends sees them. So it is important to have the monument at that location so that people can see something besides the skid marks. This is probably a better place for the monument than the skate park.
At the monument, Kim demonstrated another reason I am proud of her. Kim realizes that other people see the skid marks too. The woman who hit her son was affected. The officers and first responders remember the skid marks. People who saw the accident. Friends, family, community members. Strangers. One death. One Love. Whatever you wish to call it.
Some people will not be able to look at skid marks and skateboards the same way again. Ever.