Have you ever been back at the site of an accident you were involved in? It's the strangest feeling, you almost feel like you should be seeing something there, some evidence of the magnitude of the fall, the injury, the drama. And yet, there is nothing there but people walking about their daily business and it hits home how much life moves on, with you or without you in it. Wait! You want to shout, this here. THIS is the spot it happened, your mind screams. Right here! No one cares, they mill around waiting to pick up their children, gabbing on cell phones, playing on their hand helds, reading books, not aware of what the walls had witnessed a few months back. It's almost like you want to make it into some sort of a shrine, except not in a reverential way. You want the spot marked. You remember all too clearly, waiting for your child, just like they are now. Talking on the cell phone, just like them. Feeling darn good in those strappy, made for you, high heeled shoes. Half aware of your other child losing his balance as he tries to hug you. You holding on to him for dear life and spinning, spinning through the air. You, hearing your bones break with a crunch in your shin (more than feeling it) and thinking "Oh shoot baby, what did you do?" before the pain hits and you fall down, holding your ankle, screaming "My foot, my foot" not even aware that everything you were carrying has been flung down, your mom with whom your were on the cell phone not a moment ago hearing every agonizing scream from the other end of the world. Your child rushing at you with concern and you flinging him away in your moment of intense pain. Nothing but white hot pain. Your child moving to the corner and standing with his back pressed to the wall. Not having it in you to comfort him yet. Not yet. Needing a selfish moment more to just feel your pain and no one else's. Other parents rushing in and lifting you onto a chair. A woman there picking up the scattered items from your bag and handing you your phone and asking you to call whoever. Dazedly realizing your husband is not in town and that for the time being atleast, you must pull yourself together and get your children to a safe place first. And then calling your husband and telling him to get home asap as a part of your leg is literally hanging off a chair. Calling friends. Asking the parents there to please call 911, please, please, please. And then praying that your friends will get there before the ambulance. All the while watching your children, their faces pressed to the glass and willing themselves not to cry. Shivering in the thin shirt you are wearing, shock lowering your temperature. Yelling at the paramedics as they ask you incessant questions, waiting for the blessed morphine to take effect. Panicking as they load you on the stretcher and the friend not beingthere yet to pick your kids up. Sighing in relief as finally, finally, when as you are loaded into the ambulance, you see her leading your two little hearts to her car, their faces scrunched with worry and trying to look brave. Sighing that now you could think about yourself.
As you stand there and look at that place, you wonder at how anonymous it actually looks, that place.
4 weeks ago