Second Chance

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Sometimes life is taken for granted, but sometimes we get a second chance.

Submitted: March 22, 2018

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Submitted: March 22, 2018

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As I look back on the events that have lead up to this point, I find myself with regret. It’s only when you are faced with losing everything that you come to appreciate the mundane things in life, such as waking up early in the morning to claw your way to work, or the stains on the carpet from a child’s mess. A few days ago I was with my wife and son in our house. Now I am barreling down a highway with a gun to my head, driving to my grave.

I was not a good man by any means, but I tried my best to be. Perhaps I could’ve spent more time with my son when I came home from work, even though I was exhausted. I should have thrown ball with him or teach him to ride a bike or any of those typical kids things that you do. These are the years where he is innocent and pure, the light of my life, and yet I was wasting them. “Maybe tomorrow, kiddo.” I would say. It was always tomorrow, and tomorrow never came. When he was born, it was like my life was filled with purpose, and yet I failed. All the things I had wanted to do, from making monster shaped pancakes for breakfast on Saturday to helping him with his school science fair project, I never did.

I could have been a better husband too. I think that I lost who I was in my work. The days seemed to meld together in to one big treadmill that I just kept running on. Wake up, work, sleep. I let it consume me, and I became distant from them. She was disappointed in me. She told me that I never spent time with them, that I would drown myself in TV and drinks. I’m surprised that she put up with me to this point. We said “I love you,” but they were just words. I think I should have tried more to connect with them. They were the reason that I lived and I think I forgot that.

The man in the back tells me to pull over. I do and we get out of the car. He keeps the gun pointed at me and tells me to start walking into the woods. I wish I could go back. I wish I could relive my life and cherish each mundane morning, and throw ball with my son, and kiss my wife goodnight. God, I know I’ve not prayed like I should have been, and that I have not been the most upstanding Christian, but I pray to you now, please just give me a seco-

 


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