Take The Opportunity

So here I am now, knowing not what obstacles lie ahead of my life. I have always been a dreamer whose only purpose in life is to dream. My family, my home, my life, flashing like the sun before my very own eyes. Now I have a prosperous business in agriculture as a biotech. I grew up on farms and livestock, and with my current condition, this was the perfect job for me.1

As I reminisce, I can remember every little detail of my past. It opens itself in my mind like a story, reading itself whenever I want it to:2

I was on the beach, the cold thick water crawling over my feet. I ran barefoot in the sand, trailing a glittering purple kite. The wind was strong, perfect. I don’t remember how old I was at the time, maybe 8 or 9. My parents were walking behind me, holding hands on the shoreline, almost like a fairytale. Almost. As it changed to dusk, my parents told me not more than another half-hour with my kite. I loved that small thing. Every year we would come down to the beach so I could fly it and my parents can talk of New Years Resolutions. But the wind was getting too strong, and my parents told me to stop so we could go back home. 3

I was on my way back to them, letting the water wash over my feet for the last few moments, when the wind picked up like a tornado, dragging leaves and stones into the air. I remember how scared I was that I would not find my parents with the blinding sand, but then again, I knew I had seen too many movies. My parents grabbed my hand and safely walked me to our car in the parking lot, the wind not settling. It was hard to remember my kite was dragging on the ground behind me. ON THE GROUND?!?!?! I had completely forgot about my precious kite and when I reeled in the string, my favorite toy in the whole world was ruined. The wind-driven sand had punctured it many times, and it ripped and tore from the gravel on the ground when I was dragging it. My parents could not comfort me as I cried on the way home. Yet I still told myself that it was just bad luck that the sudden windstorm had hit that exact day. That was the last family trip to the beach.4

Oh, I remember how sad I was when I lost that kite. I still miss it. Let’s see what other stories open up:5

I was in middle school, a girl who was picked on and bullied on a regular basis. Long brown hair with absolutely no acne (which was rare in my grade). I am told even now that “nerds” are often picked on by people who are not so intellectual. I was what you would call a “nerd” back then. I had my few tight friends, Kylie and Caell mainly, and my few other acquaintances. There was this one girl, Michelle, that always liked to make me miserable.6

One day I was rushing to Literature class with a paper that took me a whole week to write. An essay, actually, about agro terrorism. My math teacher had kept me late to discuss a problem, and I was afraid I was going to be late. The essay had to be on Mrs. Sander’s desk before the bell rang, so I carried it with me in one hand and my book bag in the other. Michelle was in that class, which is why it was my least favorite. She was waiting outside the door talking to her friends like she did everyday, not caring if she was late. I had to run faster, the bell was ringing in only a few seconds. I was right by the door, almost there...7

Michelle had stuck her foot out and tripped me, which was totally unexpected. I tripped, my books scattered everywhere, and my important paper had landed in the worst place possible-a puddle. A puddle from a leaking sink in a bathroom next to our classroom. 8

How I presented that wet paper to Mrs. Sanders and why I was late I cannot remember, but I do remember getting zero marks and hating Michelle more than ever before. But I still told myself that it was just bad luck that my paper just happened to land there in the puddle. I never remember seeing Michelle again.9

How is it that I cannot remember her, yet I still remember my hate for her? Then again, I always was a person to hold a grudge!10

“Come on, your break has been over for more than 10 minutes.” This sudden intrusion by my boss at work told me my memories would have to wait for a while. Time to get back to work. Now what did Carl say earlier about genetically modified plants...?11

“Ahhh, what a good day it was, but I’m just glad I’m home. I’ll cook dinner for myself, since my troublesome daughter won’t be back for a while. I wonder what she is getting herself into now...”12

I put leftover chicken in the microwave for a few minutes to defrost. I just stared into the ticking clock, since I had nothing better to do. As I ate my dinner in front of the TV, which I did occasionally, a commercial jolted my memory.13

It was a commercial on some law office talking about injuries and showed a man in a wheelchair with a twisted leg, which he said he’s gotten after his motorcycle fell on top of him. Just like me. Injured beyond repair. Then, the night came to me when I least expected it.14

I was in my early 20s going to college party with my friends. The loud music had pounded my ears while the flashing lights blurred my vision. The party to mark the completion of my second college year. Couples were dancing together and others were dancing alone. I was standing with a soda in my hand, watching from the porch. I remember looking over a wide city filled with lights, people arguing, and car horns honking. How different it was from my home, the farm I grew up on as a child. My friends were talking to me, although I did not comprehend a word they said. Then a young man, handsome, with black sleek hair, asked me to dance. For some reason, I remember not, I refused. But if I was back there again, I would have said yes no questions asked!!15

Anyways, it was late and I was tired. I told my friends I would be driving back to my dormitory. The party was located in someone’s apartment, because I had to go down stairs and walk by other rooms to get to my car.16

I remember that white Camry, and how unreliable it was.17

But I got into my car, and drove out of the parking lot, as if it were a normal evening. How wrong I was. I knew if I was drunk then I would not be able to drive home, so I did not drink at the party, and felt very good about it. My dorm was 10 minutes away. I was at a street intersection, Chelsea Avenue and Pancheri Drive. I stopped at the stop sign and waited for several cars to pass. Not seeing anyone else, I went on ahead. A scraping sound, metal against metal, and a scream, probably mine, and then nothing. Darkness, nothing.18

I opened my eyes to white, thinking I was in heaven. But I felt excruciating pain, and I would not feel pain if I were dead. Knives sticking in my leg and arm. I felt soft clothing on me and my head on a pillow. I was in a hospital. Nobody else was there. It was completely silent except for the machine next to me beeping and monitoring my heart rate. The pain was so bad, oh how I wished I actually was dead.19

A moment later, yet a seeming eternity, a man with a white overcoat came in, who I guessed was a doctor. I let out a moan of pain, and was barely able to open my eyes, even though they felt cold and heavy like icebergs.20

“Glad to see you awake.” He said, or something like that. “We are giving you pain medications to help with your leg and arm.” Yeah, that was working real well. “Why don’t you try to get some rest and I will explain to you more in the morning.” And then he just left. Why couldn’t he give me answers then? I’m okay, I can handle them. Aren’t I?21

I probably slept but felt like I didn’t the next morning. I glanced over at the clock next to my hospital bed, but do not remember what time it was. Then he came in. I noticed the pain in my body was minimized, but not gone. It was bearable now.22

He explained what was routine, I’m pretty sure, that I was in a hospital because I’d gotten in a bad car crash. I knew that, and whatever he said next. But I remember these words most vividly, so well I can still hear the sadness and inflection in his voice, “It seems one of your vertebrae shattered and lodged shards against your spine. Even with the surgery correcting the problem, you’ll be paralyzed from the waist down. I’m afraid you’ll never walk again.” Never walk again? No, that can’t be right, there must be some mistake. I tried to wiggle my toes, but it was hard to see with the thick cast around my leg hiding them from view. But I could feel it, or more like I couldn’t. I was numb. I still told myself that it was just bad luck I got hit at that very moment.23

And so now I am just remembering in swirls. How I returned in a wheelchair the next school year only to meet everyone’s gawks and stares. Yet somehow I still managed to graduate with an associates degree. Now I have a 14-year-old daughter and own my cattle ranch, just like what I lived in as a child. From where I have been sitting and reminiscing, I could look out the window into a vast open field. I haven’t been able to walk since the crash, and I have remained in my wheelchair.24

But the one thing that keeps me going in life is my love to write children’s stories. I have had 6 published, all fantasy stories. Knights slaying evil dragons, a young girl’s escape from an alien world, centaurs fighting a sorcerer trying to control them. That is my favorite book of all, called ‘The Centaur’. It is about a courageous young male centaur named Silverback who is trying to defeat an evil sorcerer. In a way, the Centaur has been my model. He is able to overcome extreme obstacles with pure will power and is courageous enough to keep going despite many hardships. I only wish I was that strong internally. But my will to reach that level of courage kept me going after my accident, so I owe a lot to a simple Centaur in a simple storybook.25

I also wrote a novel about my accident and how it affected my life. It is one of the best sellers. Now I get fan mail from all over the world from people saying how this inspired and empowered them to get things beyond their reach, to take opportunities.26

“And welcome back to the Price is Right!” I shook myself out of my memory trance with a shake of my head. 27

“I must have dozed off, because my show that I was watching was done several hours ago. Well, the clock says 10:47. Who is at the door?”28

And in came my daughter, black T-shirt and jeans with skeletons.29

“Hey mom, have a good day?” She asked me without even waiting for an answer before going off to her room. I smiled to myself. A fan mail letter flashed in my memory.30

It said that the boy who read it was also similarly injured in a snowboarding accident. He was so devastated when he learned he could never snowboard again. But he was giving up hope until he read my novel. He said it gave him the will power to do something about it. So he invented a snowboard with braces up to his hips attached to it, so his feet and legs would stay planted and he could steer with the rest of his moveable body. His idea was a success. Now several disabled people are using that snowboard idea and are gaining part of their life back. His name was Cameron, and he said that he was able to help himself and other people through hard times because she gave him hope and courage, like the Centaur.31

Even though my daughter was already in her room with her door shut, I said, “Yes dear. I had a very good day.”32