A Song That Never Ends...“It all comes back to you, your’re gonna get what you deserve.†The lyric skipped over in my head as if the c.d. had deep scratches on its memory. There I lay served, staring immobilized into the same fluorescent fixture that countless victims have as they are escorted to the Emergency Room. I was scared for my life. so I immediately began bartering with God for a second indulgence in life.My family vacationed in the mountains of north Massachusetts that year. It was mid-June and I was still delirious from school letting out. I didn’t like the idea of being stuck with parents in the onset of summer, so I invited my best friend Mike to join my family and I on the trip. The resort town was small. it was only a matter of time before my partner and I ran out of things to do. After 4/7th of the trip had passed, Mike and I retired to our condo room after a day of cycling.“Wash your hands before dinner, dear,†my mother requested.
“I know, Mom...†I unnecessarily barked. The return bike trip was a lengthy uphill one, and someone had to be punished for my lack of endurance. My mother remained facing the stove when she told me to take the trash out. In synchronization with the pot boiling over the stove, I seethed with anger fueled by laziness. My mother decided that she didn’t have to withstand my verbal attacks any longer. In her own defense, she said that it is sinful to insubordinate your parents the way I did. She said that sinners always get punished for the evil they perpetuate. I didn’t care. I wasn’t hearing anything she had to say at that moment. I was too caught up in a foolish sense of victory because I felt that I had won the argument.
Outside of the condo, I stood looking over the horizon on top of the world. That’s the feeling you get when your’re on a mountaintop. The mountain face was so steep, the entrance road had to be drilled into the rock foundation like a valley. After discarding the trash in the dumpster, I decided a downhill bike ride was in order to blow off steam.
Coasting was not an option. I pedaled like one destined for a trophy. But I was more accurately destined for atrophy. Accelerating down the zig zag valley of an entrance road, each turn delivered me expressly to the next. The air was cut at such a velocity that it sent ruffles through my shirt. I thought about my beautiful girlfriend back home, the cool reputation I built, and the in-crowd I left behind. “Nothing can stop me,†I reveled blissfully.
I was absolutely right. Nothing could stop me as I approached the 140 degree turn before me. Nothing except the rock wall that was inevitably made when the road was cut into the mountain. Somehow my brake caliber became misaligned so that when the hand brake was depressed, the brake pads didn’t grip the wheel rim. I presume that my bike and I collided head-on with the rock wall at a speed of about 35-40 m.p.h. Naturally, I left my helmet back at the condo; it was too much of a barrier between my hair and the wind that always promised it a dance.Later that evening, I received 70-something stitches to seal where the impact of the collision had popped my forehead open. The surgeon had to sew a new connection between my bottom gums and the inside of my bottom lip. A MRI screening showed that I had fractured my skull at the hairline on the left side of my head. Still conscious, it is obvious to me by my parents reactions that this was a serious incident. It was only after all the surgery was finished, that I got to see my new reflection in the mirror. In horror, I looked at the direct consequences of my actions.Up until then, I was the most superficial of anyone you’d ever meet. I didn’t have the slightest idea of how to cope with this life change. When I returned from the trip, my girlfriend dumped me. The in-crowd sent e-mails to each other debating my competency for allowing such an incident to occur. Strangers stared at my scars. Every time I thought it was safe to forget about the accident, somebody would ask me my story.Fall came with the annual reopening of school. Most people start their sophomore year with a tan, or new sneakers. I came back with a new spirit and a face to match. Now a days, whenever I look into a mirror, I’m reminded that life is not promised. I’m reminded that how you live has a direct correlation to the events in your life. I’m reminded that I should live fulfillingly by perpetuating happiness, for that’s the only way I can insure it for myself. I’m reminded everyday, like a c.d. skipping from the scratches on its memory, only this time, the scratches are on my memory..contactTable I edited my profile at Freeweblayouts.net , check out these Myspace Layouts!
