Tracks

Four Hours

That is how long it has been since I started walking from the wreck. I would have thought that I'd run into another road soon, but this highway seems to go on forever. I haven't seen any cars to help me, but even if I did it would be a worthless effort. The white out was just too thick, I'd have a better chance of being hit by a car than catching their attention. I knew it was a stupid decision to text Abigail while I was driving in the storm, but she gets worried easily and I just wanted to be there for her and our unborn son. "How much longer are you going to be out Shane? I don't want to start dinner until you're home". She's going to have to wait a bit longer, because by car I would have still had a two hour drive on my hands. But a walk? Yeah. This will take a while, but then again it's been so long since I've had time to myself that I could almost ignore the blisteringly cold snowflakes that dotted my skin. Almost. I have never been much of a deep thinker, just a man who does what he needs to do, when he's told to do. I was told to work on washing machines to get cash, and when people needed that cash I was there for them. Not because it's kind, but just because it's what I was told to do. Thinking about life has always made me feel empty, and now that I walk into the merciless white of the blizzard; that emptiness can only be reciprocated by a similar void feeling. I grew up being told that I should find something I'm good at and just go with it, but how can I be good at something? I'm just a man. I'm not talented, or skillful. I'm just Shane the repairman. The silence was getting too painful. I kept letting out deep sighs of anguish, and the snow didn't even bother me after these lonesome hours alone. God, I wish, just once that the snow would make a noise. Rain pitters and sometimes it can be warm, but not snow. Snow only piles up, and pushes you down coldly. It makes everything hurt and the snow never ceases, Rain will silence after just a few minutes but snow can pile for days.

I've begun to notice that I'm not making tracks, which is very concerning. The snow can't be this dense, and the snow isn't falling faster than I can fill them. My anxiety has been higher than this before, but I've always had people around to help me. This time, it's just me. The panic that fills me shakes my steps, and every leg forwards feels limp and weak. I now fear falling over, or hypothermia. Civilization is in sight, and the snow is letting up. Usually at this point in my car, I would think about my wife, I'd think about calling my Dad and asking him how's the weather in Florida. Comically, when he asks the weather up here in the great lakes region I'd give him the same old "Cold". But no. This, now that I am walking through this snow, No longer trudging or stomping. I feel my body breeze through the snow like it's air, my heart is thumping only once every few moments as I think about warmth. The heat of a loving home, to press my cheek against Abigail's crook in her neck and to hold her up in my arms like we would at the mall when we were teens. I just want to feel happy again, these moments alone have haunted me and I realized that they are all I have in this world. I could have been killed, swerving off that road could have very well ended it all. What if I broke a leg and I had to stay in a freezing car? what if I fell unconscious right now? The souless expression plagued my face, one that a man too focused should wear. Blank, but terrified. Eyes widened and cheeks; shallow. The whole world could be calling out my name now, but I would keep walking. I no longer feel the ground, nor do I breath. At least I don't think I breath. "Jacob.. Kevin.. Johnathan.. Benjamin.. Daniel.. Steven.. Sam.." I murmur. I had never thought about baby names, even when she told me that we were having a child. So selfish, so degrading of me. My mind was so blank, but now it's so clear. I am on the street of my home, only so few steps away from kissing Abigail on the lips and telling her how much I love her. My words echo in my mind, but they're muffled by the snow's harsh nature. There is no light, no street lamps or anything. Just the heat, I could almost feel it on my forehead and nose tip, I saw my home, the brick fixer upper from the 70's that I was always so content with. My love for it grew as I saw every inch of it. I knew how warm it is, because I often even complained of it. But this time, I know I will love it. I reached through to the door, and suddenly. Without any rhyme or reason, I was inside. I didn't care, because at that moment what hurt more was the cold.

There she was. My wife of 4 years, Sitting on the couch, in tears. Her pink sweatshirt stained with tears and her short-shorts crumbled up and covered partially with a wool blanket. In those few, painful moments. I could not speak, nor breath, nor feel, nor Be. For when my eyes laid upon the television screen infront of Abigail, my heart left it's final beat.

Because there I Was. Laying in a car, broken and mangled, my head in the steering wheel and pronounced dead at sight. "Here on i-98 we have a man named Shane Vandergand who recently was killed in a head on collision, the white out had made the road appear thinner and an oncoming semi had been in the middle of the road. The Semi-Driver Harold Buneon is in fair condition with only a damaged headlight and a bit of crumpling near the door, but Shane was not as lucky. We pray for the victim, and his family".

The report of my life, Literally. It all made sense now, but that still. did not matter, to me. I approached her, wanting the warmth of her body, wanting to feel whole again and tell her how much I love her. But my hands could not feel, and she simply rubbed her stomach with a pained look on her face. The guilt consumed me, as I watched the only person I had left stay out of my reach and gasp for air as she rolled onto her side and held her stomach with vicious, striking pain rolling through her. I could not help her, and the snow was nullifying the sounds of her pained, laboring wails. 3 months too early, and I was 2 hours too late.

Sitting there, on the blood stained couch of my broken life, I now closed my eyes, for the last time. But the sound of the blood in the fabric, no matter how minute still haunted me. Slowly dripping through and coursing over the metal. Fibers that had not been dripped or disturbed since the day they were sheared were being soaked by the reminents of my life. Then my ears ceased to hear. I am left alone, with my thoughts. The panic and anxiety no longer consumes me, and my memories are being melted away in the darkness. I can feel myself becoming one with the cold void I had been running away from for so long once more. And in this void, I finally found, my warmth.