A few years ago, I wrote a poem about something that happened to me when I was seven. It ended with these lines: To this day, I still bear scars and guess what? I don't get behind cars.
I wrote this poem about a day that I believe I will never forget.
It happened at the neighbor's house where I usually went after school. Mrs. Pickel, who lived across the street, would watch me when I played with her son, Zach. It was about 5:00 in the afternoon, and a pleasant day. The sun was leaving its last glow on the trees before settling in.
My Mom pulled up in her maroon Pathfinder to tell me to go home on my bike. Doing as I was told, I fetched my beat up Huffy and stood behind her car. I was waiting patiently to cross the street. Like a stroke of bad luck, a car whisked by me leaving a breeze on my face.
Suddenly, I heard the roar of a car engine. It sounded like a jolt of thunder in the sky.
The next I knew, I was under the car with my bike. I was overcome with heat from the exhaust pipe, and I felt a tremendous pressure from the big SUV bearing down on me. I remember seeing Mrs. Pickel and her husband Randy, frantically running and waving their arms.
"Stop, Ginger. Stop! Stop!"ÃÂ That's what I heard, as I was trapped on the warm asphalt in shock. I recall, being held in Randy's arms. He was consoling me by saying, "It will be alright Michael."ÃÂ Looking down, I saw the result of my injuries. My legs were covered in blood as if I had on bright red stockings. I tried to remain calm by concentrating on something other than being there. Breaking my thoughts, I distinctively heard the siren of the ambulance roaring in the distance.
Some of the events that followed are not quite clear in my memory. I do remember being in the Pickel's front yard hearing frantic commotion. I remember seeing a lot of blurry faces staring down at me. I recall being strapped to a stretcher and rushed to the nearest hospital for treatment. At the hospital, I remember lying there like a tranquilized animal. A lot was unclear and foggy to me at this point. I just recall being in the hospital bed, surrounded by people that love me and close by was my shaken Mother.
The doctor later informed my Mother that I had injuries to my right lower leg. There were wounds on my: foot, ankle, and knee. I stayed overnight, and then was released. Everyday for the next month, I had to clean and dress my injuries daily. Although, I only had crutches for a couple days, walking was very painful. For several years, I was reminded of that day every time I looked down at my scars.
In life, there are certain trials and tribulations that shape the person who we are today. Some people may experience more emotional trauma than what I went through, but my situation was life changing. For a long time, I was afraid of cars. Today, I don't have a problem with being around cars, but I'm definitely aware of how dangerous they really can be.