Thankful for Life's Little Things

I held the red construction paper in my hands. Ever so lightly I cut along the sharpie lines. My scissors gilded around the page. Finally creating a pile of hand made decorations. Once all that was left of my red paper was simple scraps, I grabbed the same in yellow and began again. Tracing and drawing different silhouettes on my paper. Grabbing my scissors, and cutting them out. Making a neat pile of my work. Then began the process again and again. I was determined to create as much as possible. I would use them and decorate my room in their perfect little beauty. Though they weren't the best, they were something. They were the small details in a great masterpiece. When I was finished, I hoped that I would create a beautiful scene. It was already six o’ clock, and my stomach ached. It was practically screaming out for food. Clawing at my insides, like a scared cat being put in water. I had already done a great deal of my cutting, so I decided to take a break. Go out and grab a quick bite before I headed back to the room. I stood up and grabbed my keys. Turned off the lights and my music, and was out the door. My heels clicked on the floor as I walked down the long hallway. No one was there beside me and my consciousness. The shadowy darkness crept around every corner. I made sure to quickly get to my car. Though I was “terrified” of the darkness, it had always given me an uneasy feeling. Especially being alone, but my car was just a few feet away. That was my safe check point. I would be fine there.

I pushed the heavy door open, and the cold wind filled my lungs. They stung me and left me temporarily paralyzed. I even started to shiver in my clothes. I made a dash to my small red Saturn. A 2001 L300. At Least that's what my father told me. I had never been good with cars and had no care to learn all of their names and brands. I had enough on my plate to worry about already. 

The handle clicked open and I swung myself into the driver's seat. It was cold, like everything else in this time of year. Even though it was technically fall, the winter temperatures were coming fast. The winter was practically chasing away the fall with its threatening and ominous storms. It was a bitter sweet nightmare in winter. A picture of the snow and trees was pretty, but when the air stood still. Everything seems to stop. Things start to crack and break. The cold sets in, and it freezes you. Makes you miserable. I knew the feeling well. It would always take me in the winter. I hated every bit of it, but couldn't manage the stress of moving. For now I would have to live in my tiny town. The town which only had two grocery stores. Limited everything else. The only fast food stop was still open for about another hour and half. I pushed my keys in the cars and started it up. The lights, air, and music flashed on. The feeling of being alive came buzzing through the car. I pushed the break, switched to reverse, and was off. I drove down the lonesome winding roads to the restaurant. It was called Jim’s. It was an original name for a quite basic place. A restaurant passed down the family line for a while. Everyone knew everyone, and had little inside jokes. Since it was the “big” place in town, everyone had the menu set to memory. They served good burgers and fries, and everyone knew it. I wasn't big on eating out, but if I drove home with no doubt in my mind, would I stay and end up hopelessly on the couch binge watching my favorite shows. I couldn't let myself give up just yet. I was determined to make a perfect thing. Finally earn my title as “an over doer.” I had always been the one who gave up early. Who never finished and did the minimum. I would prove them wrong in my decorations. I would show them I care enough to stay and work this hard. Push my limits. 

Blinding lights. Black.

My eyes twitched. Pain stung and vibrated through my body. It was a wincing pain. I felt tears in my eyes. My throat was raw and stung when I breathed in. I couldn't open my eyes. The blinding lights burned my eyes. Voices and sounds muttered quietly beside me. I couldn't make anything out. Everything was blurry. I managed to open my eyes to a white room. It was cold and plain. People surrounded me with different tools. Some with needles filled with  liquids. They stabbed into my body. I felt the needle slide through my skin and pierce me. They pushed the substances in my body. I felt each drop flow in my blood. It was uncomfortable burning pain. I started screaming. It seemed like the only thing I could do to fight the pain, even though it ran my throat even more raw. I tried my eyes again, this time I held longer. Doctors and nurses. They were talking to me. I looked around. My family was in tears beside me. They wore worry and fear on their face. But along the edges was joy. 

Black. 

This time I awoke more calmly. The pain had faded and I felt nothing. I decided to open my eyes. When I did, the sight before me was glorious. Little cute thanksgiving decorations surrounded my room. I remember now. Those were the ones I cut out. Beside them were drawings and feathers. Crafts covered my walls. A smile slid on to my face. I couldn't help myself. I worked so hard on those decorations, and yet, someone finished them. Then it hit me. The kids at the orphanage wouldn't get to see what I made for them. All the decorations. My perfect picture I was unable to paint. I tried to sit up. Tried to run and tell them I was sorry. But wires were strapped on to me. They dangled from machines all around. I finally noticed the oxygen mask on me. The smile turned into shock and tears. I didn't recognize or remember any of this. “When did I get here? Where am I?” ran through my head. I finally found something I knew. My mother was asleep on the chair beside. 

“Mo-mommy!” I screeched. I wanted to know what was happening. Why am I strapped here. A hospital bed? When I made a sound her eyes popped open and emotions poured from her. She started crying and sobbing. She started calling my name and telling me it would be okay. Doctors rushed into the room and began asking me questions as they examined me. It was so overwhelming, I couldn't stand it. 

“WHAT IS GOING ON!” I sunk in my bones. 

“Honey. It's okay. You were in a car accident, and now you're fine. You're okay.”

“Wh-what about the orphan-s? Th- the dec-oratio-ns?” I managed to say between deep sobs and breaths. 

“They saw your decorations. I was told to bring them here and decorate your room. They said they were thankful for you, honey.”

I fell back. “Thankful for me.” And this whole time. I pushed myself. I wanted to be there for those kids. I felt I was their only support, but this whole time. They were there for me. 

“Thank you.”