I sat on the bench, head in my hands wondering why I have to sit here watching the game I love, why this had to happen to me. I want to be out there on the field, with my glove in hand and sweat dripping down my forehead, ready for the next play to happen.  But right now my body won’t let me, not after what happened last winter, not after that car crash.

It was a snowy afternoon in January and I was on my way home from school like usual, taking my friend Jessi home as well. It was the first time that I had driven on snowy road by myself, with no adult.  I drove carefully, reminding myself the rules and  knowing that I had just got my license a month ago. What happened next though I have a hard time remembering, I only remember when I woke up in the hospital bed, my left arm and leg completely wrapped up in casts, my face full of scratches and bruises. My mind was out of control with questions, wanting answers then and there.

“What happened? Where is Jessi? Am I okay? Why am I here? Where am I?” I couldn’t stop myself from wondering what had happened earlier that day. Time passed and I still had no answers. Finally, after what had seemed like days, my mother and father finally showed up running right up to me as they entered the hospital room.

“Sorry we couldn’t make it sooner,” My parents exclaimed frantically, “we were caught in very bad traffic.” My mom and dad continued to blabber on about what took them so long to get here. All I could think about was how glad I was that they finally showed up, not caring how long it took them to do so. I didn’t think about what would happen next or what I might encounter,  all that I knew was that from then on I would be okay with whatever the outcome may be. But I didn’t realize how much the accident would change my life forever.

Sitting on the bench made me realize how much I missed playing, how much time I have lost from this year. I knew I probably won’t ever be able to play again but I always wondered what if I could. It was summer now, almost 8 months since the accident had happened. During that time I had been in and out of three different casts, my arm and leg slowly healing. I went to physical therapy for the rest of my body trying to get it back to normal shape. Slowly but surely I recovered, and was able to move around better with half my body wrapped up. I knew I still had a long way to go, but all I continued to think about was not being able to play the sport I love, the one thing in my life that I enjoyed doing most. Nothing could replace this emptiness that I was feeling.

From that day forward I knew that I would have to push myself if I wanted to play again. I knew that in order to be as good as I was, I would have to work as hard as I could to get there. Each day during the Summer, I went outside and tried to play catch with my sister, only able to move half of my body. The pain began to go down as I continued to work and try to regain my abilities.

That progress however, came to a halt the day I went back to the doctor’s.

“What do you mean I can’t play softball anymore!!!!!” My face frozen in shock, I look around nervously trying to find something that would make it stop, something that that would tell me this is just a dream. But I knew that this was real, that I wouldn’t be able to do the one thing I love anymore.