Wrecked

October 7, 2009
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My mother died when I was ten. More than anything I wish I remembered what she looked like, but today I had no time to dwell on the past. I had to get back to work because I needed to support my family. I’m now 16 and I work at Burger King flipping greasy burgers. I have to try and help my father with the bills, they are becoming late and stacking up. My older sister Sam is also trying to help and is doing what she can since she pays her own bills, my grandmother helps out every now and then.


My father told me that my mom and I were like best friends. But after the wreck I couldn’t remember anything else that has happened. About a year ago my father and sister told me what had happened. On a snowy Wednesday evening we were driving home from the mall. My sister Sam was 15 and trying to drive home through a blizzard. The snow started picking up, becoming thicker and the road became more icy and slippery. I was sitting in the backseat of my moms orange convertible Mustang and my mom was in the passenger seat. I asked my sister to slow down and pull over to let mom drive the rest of the way home but she refused. I was worried of what was to come. I grabbed my seatbelt so tight that my hands turned purple. As the car began to speed up, I looked out the front window and we were sliding down a hill, then the car started spinning and suddenly we crashed. A white Trail Blazer slammed into the passenger side.


I awoke in a white room, white lights and everything. I had thought to myself “Was I in heaven? Did I die?” I started to zone out, when I heard a voice. Not just any voice a special voice. I looked to the right next to my bed and saw my father. I heard him say “Oh my, oh my, your awake! I was so worried”


“Where are mom and Sam?” I asked, “Are they alright?”

“Sam is fine, just a few bruises, scrapes, and some dizziness,” he said gently.


“What about mom?” I asked anxiously.

“Mom…” he paused. “She is no longer with us Michele. The doctors tried to help her but they couldn’t stop the bleeding from her side, and glass was shattered all over her body, to risky to take out. I’m so sorry honey.”

At sixteen, you know your aren’t the best driver but I’m driving home from work and it’s snowing pretty bad. I’ve had my license for three weeks. I drive a navy blue Honda Civic. I’m going over the bridge I went over when my mother passed. The only thing I really remember. I’m shaking uncontrollably, and sweating like I had just ran a marathon, it’s been six years. I lost control of my car going down the hill and I headed into another vehicle. My head smashed into the steering wheel, causing me to lose conscious.

I woke up in the hospital two weeks later. My head was throbbing so I reached up to see what happened. I felt a thick bandage. The doctor came in and told me I had 15 stitches. My father and Sam walked in, cheering with happiness that I’m awake. They rushed over and squeezed me tightly. On our way home two days later they explained to me what happened. It’s now been five months since my accident and six and a half years since my mom passed away.

The next morning I woke up in my bedroom. The north wall was orange, south wall was lime green, west wall was blue and east wall was pink. Posters of male celebrities hung up, also with old friend and family photos. Then I remember my mom and all the things that happened before she passed away. So vividly. My mother had long beautiful blonde hair with very blue eyes. Very tan skin and also very slim, just like me! I had a flashback! I ran downstairs yelling I have my memory again! I got it back!

“Honey, are you okay?” my father asked.

“Dad I’m fine. I remember mom and what she looked like and one day when I was five and we were playing at the park eating ice cream.” I said excited.

“Wow, this is great!” my father cheered.

Now here I am the night before my wedding telling my fiancé the story. The next day at the wedding my dad was telling me how much I looked like mom and how the weddings were almost the same. He told me he was proud of me and how happy my mother would’ve been.





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