Sixty Seconds

August 18, 2004

It was the older part of town, where the houses were older than most of the people living in them. Each one falling apart worse than the next. This was where I spent my first eight years. In the faded yellow house that was the center of the world for four children. As a three year old I was barely left alone, but one day. With the sun high and so bright the reflections off the car blinded you, I was alone with my dog in the yard. The black and white wire-haired dog jumped and barked as I climbed the stairs to the top of the little red and blue slide. I giggled as I flew down and my feet touched the ground, only to turn around and do it again. Yet one time was different than all the others, my giggles were quieted over the small squeaky meow. And there in the shadow of the tall oak tree was a little grey kitten staring back at me. His fur was so shiny in the sunlight it looked as if it sparkled. So as fast as I dared I moved forward to the kitten and he stayed staring at me.

  As if he was waiting.

Maybe for food or warmth, maybe he felt there was no way out with this tiny being slowly creeping towards him. So he stayed, even as I reached down and picked him up. I held him close to my chest, my tiny arms wrapped around him as his legs dangled and made my way into the house to show everyone, my new friend. Never did it cross my mind that we wouldn’t be able to keep him, so when my mother told me that he might already have a home and a family I was heartbroken. In her attempt to calm me she promised that if he didn’t have a family that we could keep him as ours.

We spent hours going house to house around the neighborhood to find this little kitty’s home, yet no one had ever seen him. After knocking on so many houses that my knuckles hurt we made our way back home and I presented the kitten to my siblings. After weeks of arguing and vet visit, we all had finally agreed on a name. 

Sparkle.

After the way, he seemed to light up the room, in personality and the tiny sparkle the sun coated his fur in.

November 29, 2007

Then came the most heartbreaking noise, it was the desperate cry of a little boy who had lost everything in a matter of seconds. The day had started quiet but that was the calm before the storm, every day for the last few months had been tense and quiet as we awaited the inevitable news. In those months my siblings and cousin had been coddled, pushed farther away and distracted. As the two youngest my cousin, Austin, and I had been gifted stuffed bears. “I know this can never compare to your grandfather but I hope you too find comfort in this.” As a five-year-old, I didn’t know what was going on, I didn’t think much of why a white bed was moved into the living room of my grandmother's house. All I knew was that we spent all of our free time at their house and I got to play with Austin or make pillows with my grandmother. 

It was a cold day, November 29th, the harsh wind blew through my coat when I walked to the school from the bus with Dillon. We had no idea what was coming so when the principal came into my classroom and asked for me I was so afraid I had gotten in trouble. I followed her like a dog with its tail between its legs and didn’t look up until I saw Dillon coming to the older grades classroom. They led us to the school conference room where I was greeted by my sister and parent holding the pink stuffed bear my grandmother had given me. The look on their faces seemed to tell Dillon something I couldn’t understand. They sat us down and told us the news, making it clear he was in a better place. 

But if he was in a better place then why was everyone crying. Well everyone but Dillon who stared blankly at the wall. “We are going to see grandma the car is out front.” It was a whirlwind of movement after that. We all piled into the car, I took my normal seat behind the driver's seat and as my mother finished buckling me in she handed me the pink bear, “Just in case you need something to hug.”

The car lurched forward and then it happened. Dillon collapsed on himself and cried. Yet all I could think about was that I didn’t need something to hug as much and Dillon might. So slowly I tapped his shoulder, he looked up his eyes red from the hot tears streaking down his face. I held out the pink bear and watch as he grabbed it and held on to it like it was a lifeline. Like everything in his life had changed.

And maybe for him, it had. 

November 29, 2018

He was beautiful even in his old age, I was fourteen months old when my grandfather had brought him to his house. His fur still shown in the sun, and he had moments where to another person he looked like a puppy. I knew better. The whole family waited, for fear he wouldn’t make it past the cold harsh winter. And when he did they waited longer because here the winter isn't the only thing threatening to kill. In the summer the heat had been known to come swiftly and unexpectedly. 

Then summer was over and the leaves start to change color and we all knew. We tell ourselves when someone we love is suffering that we will take their pain, but maybe that is what letting them go is. It is painful to watch them die and we may suffer their loss but their pain is gone. We have held true to our promise and taken their pain and placed it on our shoulder in their stead. So when my father came to me and told me that the vet appointment was planned for the 29th I came home that day with my head held high as I greeted my brother and Jack. One last ride with the people he loved and then he would finally go home. To his real master. 

So I follow dutifully behind my brother as he picked Jack up and carried him to the car. It was a short and silent ride and when it ends we were met by my grandmother and the rest of my family and we headed in together. The room they had us in was quiet and looked as if they tried to make it as much like home as they could. My brother set him on the table and he looked at us as if asking why we were crying. The door opened and the doctor walked in, he was sweet and carefully explained everything before. I slowly laid him down as Dillon held Jack’s head in his arms. It was quiet until I felt him relax then Dillon cried. His head leaning farther into Jack’s fur. It didn’t take long before people started to leave. 

One by one.

Yet I stayed rooted to the ground staring at him as I gently stroked his ears. Soon I was alone fighting with myself as I tried to decide whether to leave to stay. Stay until someone dragged me away. It had started and ended on the same day. Jack had lost his master on November 29th and been returned to him eleven years to the day later.

He was finally home. 

June 24, 2019

In the few seconds it took for the car to fall it felt like time had slowed to a crawl. I could feel every movement, every shift the car made as the tire lost contact with the wet ground. The whole world changed in the time before the car crashed into the ground, it’s wheels spinning in the open air. The colors became stronger, white noise faded to the wind and the rustle of leaves. Those few seconds were peaceful and calm. Maybe I had come to terms with this being the end. The peaceful forest in front of me being the last thing I saw.

Then it stopped.

The trees vanished and the wind’s cries were overpowered by the sound of metal tearing and glass shattering. 

In the company of death, you do not think. All thought is lost and the body just reacts. Ignore the pain and keep moving forward, so when I released the seat belt and dropped from the driver’s seat I did not feel the broken glass dig and cut into my skin.

I would like to think what I did in the passing minutes weren't filled with panic and pressure as they seemed in the moment. But in reality, I had never felt so useless and afraid, my mind had turned against me as I tried to forget the growing fear. It was overpowering like the darkness that silently covered a town and left nothing but emptiness in its wake. So as I called for help. On the phone that was miraculously still working, saved by a split second chance as I turned the key just minutes ago. . . or hours. Time changes as darkness blankets the earth, whether it slows down or speeds up to point where you feel as if you could reach the sun in seconds. 

In my shattered and foggy brain, I moved, from where I had landed to the door on the other side. The tiny rock-like pieces of glass digging into my hand but never breaking the skin like I was crawling over-sand. All that could be heard was the deafening sound of the monotone ringing that could have been coming from my ear or the phone as it tried to push past the car and reach a signal to finally send the call to the person who was only a few hundred yards away. I reached forward to the handle and pushed.

The door did not move. 

I tried again. And again. I tried until I felt the darkness and fear surround me. So in the attempts of a wild and cornered girl, I released a blood-curdling scream and pounded on the window.

There, like my hand, hit the glass, was where I had lost all hope of being saved. No one was coming and I would be lost, destined to be a name, a story that was never told to the end. 

Seconds passed, which added to minutes, where I stared at the broken glass before I remembered a promise. “I will not go quietly.” Rage at the cards I had been dealt another scream ripped through me as I pushed off my feet and rammed the door. Again and again, until the car moved and freed me from the confinements of the cage that held me. I was free from the car but surrounded by the wreckage. One foot in front of the other I moved, climbed up the ditch to the road that had caused so much destruction in my short life than I ever thought possible. 

And there I stood.

My face dry of tears. 

Maybe this is a story of a girl who stayed dry on a cloudy day or a girl who’s never been hurt. Or maybe I’m the girl in the middle of the road covered in blood. . .