Graced

So, this is still a rough draft. Not in pre-writing stage, but still rough. I'm still going through the editing. Let me know what you would change!

Graced

It was a crisp fall day in late November. The leaves were swaying in the wind, dancing and kissing their host trees goodbye until next season. I was in high school - my sophomore year. There was a lady who lived across the street from me who had horses, open pastures, and a beautiful barn. I loved to visit her in my free time and help her with her horses – they needed exercise, grooming and enrichment that she had trouble providing. I didn’t know that this day in November would be an experience I will hold near to me for the rest of my life.

On this particular November day, I decided that instead of staying home and watching a movie like I usually would, I had an urge to behave out of sequence from my regular routine. I dressed, putting on a light jacket and riding boots, walked out the door and headed across the street. Living in the country, both her and I had long driveways and the trek from her house to mine constituted a half a mile worth of exercise.

Upon reaching the top of my driveway I saw a small, black car that looked as if it had been precisely cut in half by the use of a laser. Glancing around for the other half of the car, I saw a man lying on the ground, unmoving. I began to walk toward him and as I crossed the breath of my street I saw the other half of the car, and the other set of victims in this accident. Lying on the side of the road was a small pick up truck with a Christmas tree in the bed. Next to the truck were two young children – I estimated both of the girls to be about seven years old. Continuing to move forward towards the victim on the other side of the road, I noticed a man next to the pick up truck, helping his wife out of the cab. I then briefly noticed one of my neighbors walking towards them. He noticed me and shouted, “I called 911!”

I finally reached the man on the far side of the road. I sunk down into a crouch and bent towards him to check and see if he was breathing. His breath was in short, shallow bursts, and each exhale smelled of alcohol. Glancing over to the children on the other side of the road, I saw them checking to see if the family Christmas tree was still intact. I suddenly felt a surge of anger, vengefulness and a flicker of hope that he would find himself in prison for the rest of his life. This man, clad in jeans and a grey hooded sweatshirt, looked to have a circular, deep and profusely bleeding wound on his forehead. The injury was slightly larger than a golf ball, slightly smaller than a baseball, and it smelt of iron.

I steadied myself to rise but as I did I felt a hand on my shoulder, pushing me downwards, back into my crouching position. My eyes followed the hand up the arm and to a shoulder that housed a woman’s concerned face. Looking down at me I noticed that she had a perfect complexion, stunning green eyes, and blonde hair that put gold to shame. Her green eyes looked back at me, trusting me. She spoke, a tone that was concerned and confident. “I’m a nurse. This man is losing a lot of blood, you need to take the hood of his sweatshirt and hold it against the wound – apply pressure and stop the bleeding.”

As I did as I was instructed, I turned towards her to confirm that I was doing it the proper way. I looked everywhere, my head almost turning 360 degrees, but she was no where to be seen. Knowing I couldn’t leave this man I resolved that she had gone to check on the other family. The blood started to soak through the top layer of fabric and I doubled it up to help with the absorption. After what seemed like hours an air emergency unit finally appeared and landed in my neighbor’s lawn.

Upon landing, several men got out and ran towards me while others prepared a stretcher. When they got to us, I stood and moved out of the way, observing them from a distance and began looking around for the nurse who’d spoken to me earlier – she was still no where to be found. The EMTs had loaded the man on the chopper and one came towards me. He looked at me – clearly reading the concerned look in my eyes - and in a sympathetic tone said, “If you hadn’t put pressure on that man’s wound he would have lost too much blood for us to save him. Thanks to you, I think he will be all right.”

I felt relief and a sense of self pride as he strode away, back to the chopper. I went to check on the other family, to see if they needed anything I could help with. By now, my family and most neighbors were outside huddled around the accident scene. I conversed with all of them to see if they had seen or spoken to the nurse – but none of them had. I was disappointed that I didn’t get to see her again and thank her, but my father assured me, “She must have been an angel.”

We found out later that the drunk driver made a full recovery. The police estimated his speed at 90 mph when he collided with the truck. We never found out how he was punished for driving drunk. Looking back, I believe the nurse I encountered must have been an angel; for someone to appear and disappear so quickly – I have little other explanation. She knew just what to do, when to do it, arrived at the accident with such perfect timing, and then I never saw her again – I see no other explanation for her. I was graced to have met her. The drunk driver was graced to have had a guardian angel looking after him.

Sometimes I reflect on that day, curious if the driver of that car ever looks back to the accident and wonders how he survived. When I look back I often think about what he might be doing at this very minute. What did he become? Did he come out of that accident a better person and learn from his mistake? Will he go on to do great things like cure cancer or save a child who will become the next President of the United States? Does he know that an angel was looking after him that day?

Maybe the accident wasn’t meant to affect his life at all – perhaps that angel’s purpose was to inspire me to write this story that I hope might reach many people. Perhaps I will someday inspire someone so much with my experience that they feel motivated to because a mentor and help change the next generation of young people, one at a time. There is no rhyme or reasons yet, but everything seems to happen for a purpose. I don’t believe we have the ability to step back and see the big picture – to tell why things happen. Sometimes, that concept is a disturbing one, but I will rest easy knowing that guardian angels exist.