The Road Not To Be Taken

The Road Not To Be Taken
Gino Jacobazzi
It was four years ago. I’m still not over it, but I live my life. It was the first family road trip. The whole crew was coming along. It was my mom, dad, and my little brother Ralph. He would have been eight today. We were the Great American Family my dad would joke. We were heading to the big South Carolina Fair that is held annually. I never fully understood what really happened. Well, I mean I knew what happened, just not why. Why did it happen? Why?

We were driving down the long winding roads of South Carolina, surrounded by woodland. Our means of transportation was my parents’ brand new 1978 Volkswagen 4 Door Sedan with an extended trunk and exterior wood finish. A beautiful car I must admit, stylish, and brand new for its time. Joyous melodies of the Beatles were playing from the stereo. We were all singing along to my personal favorite song, Let It Be. It was the best time of my life.

Some time later, still driving down the twisted coiled roads, which seemed like they were never-ending, our engine gave a loud shriek. I wasn’t too worried, being a new car and all I just thought it was being broken in, like a baseball mitt. A couple rough thumps later I began to worry, along with my parents. My little brother Ralph was sound asleep. It was almost midnight and I myself thought I could use some shuteye. As I was half-asleep the car died. I heard the faint voices of my parents asking each other, “What are we gonna do? We have no tools, and the nearest pay phone is twenty-five miles away. And neither of us will be able to walk that far in this kind of darkness.” “We could just stay in the car, everything will be fine ‘til morning,” my dad told my mom. “What about the bears?” my mom replied. “Don’t worry.”

I awoke, unsure of where I was. As my mind recollected where I was and what circumstances I was in, I wondered where exactly I was and what time it is. I figured around 2AM, simply based on the fact that I felt like I just took a nap and there were no signs of light; but I could be wrong. Anyway, it was quiet and dark, real dark, so dark I could barely see the silhouette of my hand. I had to go to the bathroom, but I was too scared to move. I didn’t want to step outside this car. Anything could be lurking around out there. Several minutes later I gained enough courage to open the door and step out of the car. Boy was I tired. My eyes were still half asleep along with the rest of my body. I looked down of what I thought to be the road. I saw a faint light disappearing and then reappearing again. Odd I thought but I had already started going and I was too tired to think much of it. Once I finished up, BOOM! I was instantly knocked unconscious.
I awoke when the sun was just coming up. I had a sharp sting in my legs and wondered why I was in the woods next to the road. I tried to get up, but my leg hurt. I checked it and found several bruises and a cut. My head hurt and my ears were tingling. I got up. What happened? Did I fall asleep here? Was I attacked? How did I get here? My head started spinning. I started to flip out. I ran out to the road. That is when I knew. I saw a smashed truck. I slowly approached it. I looked through the window and saw a stain of what I made out to be blood. I went no further. I knew that that driver won’t be driving anymore. My heart sank. “MY FAMILY!” I yelled. I ran down the road until I saw it. It was our car. I slowly approached it. The windows were blown out and the front was smashed. I knew what happened. I started to cry. Hands trembling, I moved in closer and looked into the window.
What I saw and felt right then and there could not possibly be described in any words. I thought for sure I’d die of sadness, but then I realize the past is the past. There’s no going back and fixing it. All you got to do is let it be. Let it be.





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