Every one has a story, and this is part of mine
Here is a scene. Silence fills the space in the turquoise Toyota on a Friday evening. The woman driving looks intently at the road with both hands on the steering wheel. The young boy stares out the window, keeping a mental count of how many trees have passed by. The little girl has her eyes closed, half asleep, breathing slowly. There’s nothing she’d like more than some rest. Little by little, the silence fades away as the woman starts to recite a song she learned from church just twenty-five minutes ago. Her fingers begin to tap the steering wheel in a rhythmic manner. Tap… Tap Tap. A smile forms on the woman face and she continues to sing. “Wa fe sa ou vle, le mem mwen pa vle…” The girl grumbles, slightly upset that the silence has been disturbed, while the boy, her brother, is still busy being fascinated of nature. The girl opens her mouth to tiredly complain and the woman opens her mouth to continue the verse, but no sounds come out. Instead, they are met with the sound and impact of another car hitting theirs.
There is a sharp intake of the girl’s breath, the boy snaps out of his fascination, and the woman has the sudden urge to go into a frenzy. The Toyota skids and spins once, twice, three times. Immediately, the chaos replaced the silence. The car crashes into the nearest utility pole. The young girl, now alert, mumbles a prayer. “Jesus. Jesus. Jesus.” One second passes by, then two, then three. Smoke enters the wrecked car. As the airbag hits her, consciousness moves further and further from the woman in the driver’s seat. The boy moves his hands towards the door handle only to realize that it’s broken. The smoke becomes heavier. He rushes through the passenger seat to make his way out the car, and the girl immediately follows, trying to ignore the ache going throughout her body. They exit the vehicle, and immediately are greeted with people who reside in the house that lost power. “Lay down, Lay down.” “We called 911.” “Do you have an emergency contact?” “Lay down, try not to move.” “Someone help me get this person out of the car!” She looks around and sees a car that luckily didn’t catch on fire, a car that will never recover, and worried faces. She slowly brings her hand to her face, feeling the perspiration. She looks at her hand and sees crimson red blood. The young girl shakily put her hands by her side and lowers her eyes to stare at the concrete ground. Blue and red lights suddenly come into her vision. The questions start: “What’s your name?” “What’s your birth date?” “Where do you feel the pain?” She slowly answers the Medical Emergency Responder, choosing to focus on his black boots. The man walks over to the girl’s brother and the girl’s body continues to shake. The pain worsens. She feels it everywhere—the right side of her forehead, around her neck, and down her knees. A tear falls from her face, then another, and another. She continues her prayer. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want my brother to die. I don’t want my mom to die. God, please.” The girl lifts her head in time to see the medical responders diligently lift her mother and place her on the gurney. The girl squints hard enough to see her mother slowly, but surely move her lips. “Don’t let us die.” The medical responders bring the gurney to the ambulance just as the girl sees a figure quickly approaching. The figure comes closer until the figure becomes clearer. He’s wearing a plain gray t-shirt, jean shorts, sandals, and a disheveled look. “Rhobie. Vini, Come. I’m going to drive you and Lucko to the hospital.” The girl sees her father, and they start to walk to his red BMW that is parked near the grass. She lifts her head.
“Don’t let us die.”
We all survived. Never in my life have I been so scared of dying. However, this taught me to be grateful for everything at such a young age. I’ve learned to appreciate the little things in life and the people around me for they can all be easily taken away. It’s not the fact that I was possibly on the brink of death that remains etched in my brain, but the fact that my prayers were answered.
Inside an Optimist's Mind 