A woman walks down Turnberry Street in the soft moonlight.

Alone.

The cold winter wind beats against her tear-stained cheeks.
The violent sway of the finger-like branches on the nearby trees couldn’t phase her.

She feels no one can understand her agonizing struggle.

Because it’s her fault.
One mistake forced her into misery.

She relives the accident every day.

The accident where,
She placed her son in his car seat,
but forgot to check that he was buckled in.

The accident where,
A truck driver failed to find the breaks,
and slammed in to the back of her maroon minivan.

The accident where,
Her three year old son,
was killed on impact.

So she drags herself to the end of Turnberry Street.
To the corner where her life came crashing down,

and views the remnants of glass scattered all across the street.

She weeps and endures her ocean of pain.