Still Standing

I sighed. The weight of the day pressed heavy on my eyes as I tried to focus on the road. When Aaron’s mom invited me to his funeral, I said I’d try to make it. Why not? There wouldn’t be any more work until after Christmas. But I always liked to leave myself an “out” just in case. I chalked it up to years of baggage that came with being adopted. I never fully trusted anyone or anything unless it was hard-earned. Shaking my head I plowed through the never-ending curtain of fog. Nothing looked familiar as I hurtled on and on into the void. In my heart, I knew that I would go to Aaron’s graveside service. There was plenty of time to pay my respects to my dear friend and his family. Maybe I could head for Missouri in the morning and then go from there to Colorado for the ski trip I had planned over the holidays. There was a lot to do before morning. I’d have to do laundry and repack some things from my extended stay in Hobart. I’d double pack. I needed something nice for the service and plenty of warm things for skiing. A little rest and I’d set out at dawn. Make the eight- or nine-hour trip and be there in plenty of time for a late dinner. Maybe I’d treat myself to something special. There was a little restaurant at the edge of town that always had my favorite: filet mignon. My mouth watered just thinking about a juicy medium-rare steak with melting garlic butter. Then again, they had excellent pasta, too, and smashed potatoes to die for. Decisions, decisions. No, I had to get the steak. I never regretted my favorite meal, and with Christmas around the corner, it was the perfect way to end the year. An even heavier cloak of fog surrounded me, making visibility a treacherous game of shadows and light. Suddenly white-hot adrenaline tingled down my neck and jolted through my body before I realized what was happening. My headlights caught something large in the road. Gleaming antlers and the flash of a white tail filled the space before me as my brain played catch up with my eyes. A buck, I thought slowly before a veil of fog swallowed him. I swerved to miss what I knew must be there, but I could no longer see. Instinct took over. I tried to correct my course. Betrayed by a moment’s panic, my truck veered hard to the right, the guardrail tearing through my driver’s side like tissue paper. I could hear my tires shredding, but that was the least of my worries as the truck headed toward a ravine. Before I knew it, I was tumbling downward, rolling in what felt like slow motion with enough time for a million thoughts to race through my head: I’m going to die. This can’t be happening. Is this a dream? The orphanage. My parents. My siblings. The boys home. I won’t get to hang out with Kristyn anymore. I wish I had a dog. I’ll never get married. I want to eat Ramen in Japan and spaghetti in Italy. Did I really help the apprentices gain better skills today? I wonder if I’ll ever find out? I haven’t done anything great with my life. Maybe this isn’t so bad. I should just give in and relax. Everything will be fine. For a few moments I felt what astronauts must feel in zero gravity. Time seemed to slow; I could see everything with such clarity. I was light as a feather gently fluttering where the wind took me. The contents of my truck all floated by me so easy, so quiet, so peaceful. Was that a wrench? I didn’t know they could fly, I mused before slamming hard into my body. A victim of gravity and circumstance I was alternately flung against my seat and the roof as the truck rolled on and on. I must have hit my head hard because consciousness faded and a merciful darkness surrounded me, sparing me the terror of those final moments. Time lost all meaning. The Ram must have rolled once or twice more as it hurdled down a small hill. Eventually, it came to rest with a violent shutter and was soon swallowed in the enigmatic mist. What I didn’t know then, was that my truck had rolled into a fast-moving little stream. Somehow, the current pushed it across to the opposite bank from where I’d entered. Miraculously, I’d landed on my wheels and caught in the rip rap, an outcropping of large rocks beneath a bridge. Minutes or possibly an hour passed before I would awaken and realize what had happened. I was in my new “home.” In the days to come, I’d refer to it as “my impromptu campsite.”  The bridge became the unintended shelter that would shield me from the elements and the rest of the planet. I was about to become a ghost walking between the living and the dead, unseen by passersby above and yet unable to join Aaron and others in that mysterious realm beyond our own.