___the accident

I carefully ease my five-foot ten-inch Orion surfboard out of the trunk, making sure not to bump her delicate body. My steps are small yet speedy as I sneak around roots, sweep the top of my foot over a pile of fresh dog you-know-what and duck under a few low hanging branches. I remember my first time down this path, panting at the end of it and agonizing over the thought of the walk back, as it felt like it took hours to reach the smooth sand. Today though, the sand spaces out in-between my toes within minutes after leaving the car. I take a second and glance out at the dimly lit horizon. A long boarder glides across the ocean's glistening surface a few yards down the beach. A small gang of fishermen I spot way down the shoreline. Their silhouettes turn my way briefly and then shift back out to sea. I slowly jog up to the waterline, where the water runs up to greet me, chilling the skin up to my ankles. After a set of waves roll in, I push off the sand and glide over a small shore break. Reaching my hands deep under water, I pull my body along. My feet dangle over the tail of my board, water trickling off my calves. I plunge my hands, rapid fire, into the dark water, trying to make it out to my destination before the ocean starts to swell up again. I’m one paddle too short. A mountain rises up before me and peaks up. Just as an avalanche begins to break off the top of this miniature moutain and smother me, I dive under it for dear life. In what seems like hours later, I break free to the surface and gasp for air, blinded by a screen of salty water. After blinking the salt out of my eyes, I take a second to catch my breath. Another lump is swelling, so I sprint out to the invisible lineup. Of course, it was the last wave in the set, so here I sit. Like a teenager eager to watch a fight, the sun pops its head up over the horizon to observe my early morning surf session.

The shrill of my alarm clock shakes my body, jolting life back into my motionless limbs. My eyes spring open and I gaze, quizzically, around the room. I slowly begin to recognize all of the perfectly spaced posters on the walls, and the dresser I’ve had since I was born, resting in the corner of my room. I glance down at my legs and everything suddenly comes to a screeching halt at the beach. Memories of the accident dart through my mind, as pain shoots down my body, settling itself in my knee, swollen the size of a watermelon. Sequences of short movie-like clips disperse themselves in the back of my mind:

My closest friend is laughing out loud.

A screeching of brakes cuts his laugh short.

Two lights so bright they burn my retinas, are charging at me.

Everything goes silently dark.

I’m pulling at my legs, trying to stand up, but I cannot even feel my lower body.

A combination of flashing red and blue lights, followed immediately by a dozen, blurry, human-like figures, engulfs my field of view.

The ambulance ride is short.

Sets of familiar, oblong lights against a white ceiling are racing by above me.

A brief image of my mom’s pale face, eyes blood shot and swollen, cheeks soaking wet with tears, and an unremovable smile, rushes past.

The uncomfortable darkness returns, as the world slowly fades, completely away.

It has only been two months since the accident. Everything is different now, as my days are filled with doctor appointments and long, painstaking hours are spent in a small room with the same person day after day, building up the nonexistent muscles in my leg. I never imagined my life could change so drastically in such a short amount of time. But, I suppose I’ve still got to wait a while longer before I am walking down that path with my five-foot ten-inch Orion surfboard, tucked up under my arm. (694)