It was Thursday, July 4, 11:57 pm. One year ago it happened. One year ago, I thought it was the end. One year ago my life crumbled. Sudden flashbacks all started at once all the same time.
“Kelly, Kelly,” my mom said gently. “It’s time to wake up. Come on, sweetie, remember today is the Fourth of July!”
“Oh yeah,” I said, suddenly wide awake. I bolted up and then rushed to give my mom a hug and said, “See ya later alligator!”
“After a while crocodile! See ya after you get dressed. Bye, honey,” she laughed as she closed the door behind her.
The rest of the day continued perfectly. We had a barbeque at my grandma's house filled with laughter and song. After swimming for a couple hours, we ate hotdogs and hamburgers before returning to the pool. We swam and swam. Not just the kids, but all my aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers, grandma and grandpa, mom, and dad. Swimming is fun, but that was just the beginning of our adventure.
When it became dark, we brought out all the fireworks and started them off. We displayed all different kinds from flowers to firecrackers,from sparklers to fountains. Once all the fireworks were used and burnt out, we had dessert and then said our goodbyes.
The memory becomes clearer now. My dad, two sisters, five brothers, and mom all piled into our eleven passenger van. At the time, it didn’t matter how we sat. My mom and dad sat in the first row with captain chairs, with my dad driving. We filled the rest of the seats, except the one behind my mom. My mom and I talked and talked about everything and anything we could. I was just about to tell my mom about my best backwards dive that day, but then it happened.
There was a screech of the breaks and then a sharp turn to the left, exposing the front right corner to harm. My dad pressed on the gas to reach refuge from the speeding driver, but it was too late. The other car bolted head first into the front right hand side of our car. We skidded out of control, I screamed, and then it was all black.
When I recovered consciousness, I had forgotten what had happened. Looking up at the hospital sealing, I suddenly remembered the traumatizing crash. Pain from my right arm rushed from the tips of my fingers all the way to my shoulder. What in the world?
“Oh good, you’ve waken. I’m Doctor Hilton.” A tall African American woman with a southern accent walked into the room and sat in the chair by my head. Before I could speak, she continued. “You will most likely be in a lot of pain for a few weeks, but your arm will heal as good as new.”
“What happened to my arm?” I asked looking down at it for the answer. It was lying in a sling with a cast going from my fingertips to my upper arm.
“Well, in the crash, you forearm was hit and the bone shattered. Don’t worry, it is a common crash injury,” she reassured me when she saw the worried look in my eyes.
“Where is my family! How did it happen?” I said, suddenly aware of my loneliness in the room...