The Window

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

Story of how I lost my Mother. *Trigger Warning!*

 

The window is shattered.  My body shakes from the frigid air.  What happened?  Where am I?  Oh yes, we were on our way to Texas.  We are not far away. My Mother is driving so I close my eyes to sleep.

Panic kills.  She always said that.  I believed her.  “ANN, ANN, ANN”.  I hear the panic in her voice.  My eyes open just in time to see us hit the rail.  Then I hear crashing and feel the vehicle roll. It was an unsecured roller coaster.  It doesn’t feel real.  Then an abrupt stop.  I cry out for my Mother and hear no reply.  I turn and see her motionless beside me.  I call for her again, no response.  I look for my phone.  Someone needs to call 9-1-1.  I can’t find it.  What am I gonna do?  This must be a dream.  I want to wake up now.

Cold, so cold, am I dying?  I whimper and call out for my mother again. And again, no response.  I hear voices and shouts.  I see people running towards me.  Then I hear them say my mother has no pulse.  I draw the blanket closer to me.  I turn to see, and a young lady says, “Look at me”.  “Can you tell me your name”?

I don’t respond at first, I want to see my Mother.  Someone needs to bear witness.  Another voice. “Look over here, honey.”  Then the first voice again. “Can you tell me your name?” I gasp for breath when I reply, “My name is Ann”. I hear my own voice say, “I’m so cold.”  Through the shattered window I can see the debris of our trip littered in the median.  Empty soda bottles, food containers, clothes that my Mother had packed, and crafts all getting wet and dirty.  My mind goes to what I can preserve.  But I can’t move.  Moving hurts.  Breathing hurts. 

Someone crawls into the back seat to get to my Mother.  They begin chest compressions.  A steady voice to my left calls “switch” every few seconds.  I look again at my Mother. I know.  I can tell.  Her spirit isn’t there anymore.  I miss her already. They start to cut open the door.  Debris falls in my face.  I cover my face with the blanket and quietly cry.  The noise of the machine makes me suddenly afraid and yet none of this feels real. I still hope for an awakening.  But the coldness that is seeping into my bones lets me know that I won’t awaken from this.

I hear a voice over a radio say, “One vehicle accident. One DOA and one critical.”  I yell no no no no no.  My shoulders shake with my sobs.  They are ready to pull me out now.  I feel many hands grasp hold of me.  Then after a count they pull.  The pain makes me howl.  They didn’t get me all on the board.  Now I feel colder and again they pull.  And I howl.  The view is different on this side of the window I’m sure.  I can’t see it though.  All I can see now is the sky.  It is raining still.  Never more than now do I believe it to be true.  Those raindrops are the tears of angels.  And another angel has joined them this day.


Submitted: February 11, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Ann Jackson. All rights reserved.

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