The Write Perspective

When I was ten years old, my mom was involved in a horrible accident. I’m finally ready to talk about it. 

Shana and I woke up on a beautiful summer morning. We were ready to seize the day, either by climbing on the trailer, watching the computer screen make exciting shapes, or riding our calf, Dooley. When we got upstairs, Mom was getting ready to leave for a day in town. We thought it might be fun to go with her, but after she told us we weren’t allowed to, we decided to stay home. Bekah and Shari were working at the finish shop and Melisa was gone too so we were on our own. The world was our oyster. 

I don’t remember what we did all day but we called Mom at least once an hour to see how much longer she’d be gone and if she had bought us anything yet. It was nearing three in the afternoon and we knew she would be home soon, so we called her again to get her ETA. We had been instructed to clean up the house in her absence so we planned to neatly throw things behind couches and into closets when she was about twenty minutes away. I always liked to make myself scarce for the first thirty minutes after she got home from town, as unloading groceries was the bane of my existence. To be fair, I wasn’t the only one who did their best to avoid her grocery runs – there was a clerk at Safeway, her main grocery haunt, who told her that when he saw her walk in he went on a long break so he wouldn’t have to ring up the three heaping carts she rolled up with. I thought he was ridiculous; even I, a ten year old, knew not to reveal strategy to the enemy.

We tried her phone, but there was no answer. “She might be on the phone with Tina,” Shana reasoned, and dialed again. Still no answer. 

Shana and I looked at each other with panic and when she didn’t answer for the third time we knew there was only one logical conclusion- she had a horrible accident and was unconscious by the side of the road. The next ten minutes were agony as we dialed again and again. Would we be expected to take on Mom’s role? I knew I wasn’t a good cook but I helped her in the greenhouse a lot. Shana was great at cleaning, but without Mom who was going to clean out the closets Shana threw everything into? We grieved our abbreviated childhood, preparing ourselves for the status of orphans . (Dad wasn’t answering his phone either.)

And then we heard the garage door. Mom was home! It was a miracle! We wiped our tears and went to hug her. I was so relieved I didn’t even try to disappear and happily helped Mom unload all the groceries. 

We were thankful she came through it without injury. Stay safe, everyone and please, mothers, answer your phones. You never know when you could accidentally terrify your children.