I'm going in a new direction...

    I've recently started to attend Grand Rapids Community College, and have gotten a lot of great feedback from my English (and Photography) professors.  It has made me realize that I need to go back to writing here, with you as my audience. With that said, I've decided to go in a new direction with Narcoleptic Daydreamer, and share my writings with you.  Since I've gotten such great comments from professors, it will be interesting to see what an actual audience thinks.  

    Being a Photography (Fine/Visual Arts) major, I feel that I need to incorporate that as well.  With every post, I will add one (or several) of my photos.  You will get the best of my talents, writing and photography, and I really hope you enjoy!

    For my first blog entry, I will share with you the personal essay that was due this week.  In this particular essay, we had to write about a singular event that changed our life perspective in a big, yet minuscule way.  Although it took me a little bit of time to figure out exactly what I would write about, I knew I made the right choice when my professor returned her remarks.  I'm actually succeeding, and I couldn't be more proud!  10 years ago, I wouldn't dream of being where I am now.

The Spirit of Christmas Past

There is something magical in the spirit of the holiday seasons.  The giving, caring, and loving.  Time spent with the people you cherish and love the most.  These are the emotions everyone thinks about when they think of holidays passed. 

I have the same traditional experiences but there is something else, something so very different and unique. The crisp and clean winter air, the blistering snow storms, and the intoxicating joy of the holidays all combine to one thought, one very insignificant significant thought:  I am alive, thanks to the Christmas spirit. 

I was 15 years old, although I do not recall the specific date, I remember one unforgettable memory:  it was bitterly cold and a massive blizzard loomed in the dark clouds.  It was cold but not just any common winter cold, it was bitter, unrelenting, harsh “Michigan cold”.  The kind of cold that as soon as I took a step outside my nostrils become frozen together, and my wet hair turned to icicles.   It felt as if Jack Frost would be biting my nose off at any given second.   

Growing up in a small Michigan town (Fremont, about an hour north Grand Rapids) meant that there were only two “real stores” in town.  This made it utterly impossible to get the latest and greatest items, things that everyone “had to have” that season.  This meant that if there was something good anyone wanted, it *meant having to drive at least 30 minutes to get to one of these places:  Grand Rapids, Muskegon or Big Rapids.  On this particular day, we had to drive to Grand Rapids.  Toys R Us had an EZ Bake Oven in stock and my mother was able to have the store put it on hold.

On that day, it seemed nothing could or would go right.  Starting from the second we woke up in the morning, Murphy’s Law was in full effect:  My breakfast plate falling face first onto the floor, the car wouldn’t start, and my Aunt was running late because my baby cousin had messed her pants on the way over.

Finally, we managed to get everyone ready, un-stuck from the snow and the pooped-in pants properly disposed of.  Our drive to Grand Rapids went without a hitch.  We shopped until our feet were about to fall off and had bellies full of delicious mall food (pretzels, cookies, ice cream, etc…). 

By this time, the snow was coming down harder, thicker, and wetter as the minutes went on.  Realizing it was time to head home, we loaded everyone into the car.  Our drive home had started off much easier than the drive there.  We were filled with the shopping bliss and excited to get home and look at all we had purchased and relax.

Eventually, it became a complete white out. The racing snow so intense it looked like we are going light speed from the movies and we were in the Enterprise or Millennium Falcon.  We had reached complete blizzard mode.  Every road was slushy, wet, frozen, and dangerous.  We were going around 10 miles an hour, and our car was still being pushed and pulled around the road.  We were being thrown around like a rag doll in the massive hands of Shrek, it seemed there was no way our car could make it. 

I looked over at my baby cousin, as she had such an innocent yet naïve perspective.  The only thing she knew of the snow was that it is fun to play in.  I could tell this was even striking fear in her fragile mind, just as it was the rest of us.

For some reason (beyond my rational comprehension), there’s always “that guy” who drives like it’s picture perfect weather conditions, no matter how bad it actually is.  Grand Rapids seemed to intensify that craziness.  Cars were zooming past us from all directions, it felt as though we were turtles running with a bunch of hares.

At first glance it looked like headlights shining faintly through the snow.  I remember thinking to myself, “How could that be headlights?  We were driving one way on the highway.  It couldn’t be headlights.”  Before I knew it, those same lights were shining straight into my eyes. 

A car slammed into the cement barricade on the side of the highway, which sent it spinning 180 degrees.  Now, it was heading the opposite direction - right in our path.  He was going about 65 MPH, when he slammed head first into our car. 

The impact totaled my mother’s car, and she quickly realized that it wasn’t going to go anywhere.  That’s when she decided to step out of the car and go get help. My Aunt soon followed with my baby cousin in her arms.  It seemed as if they were soldiers, and they left me on the battlefield alone.  There I sat:  inside a totaled-out car in the dead of winter, on side of the highway. 

Taking it upon myself to get out of the situation (it was evident at a young that I was going to be my own decision maker), I pushed open my door with all my strength.    Finally, I made my way to the road.  Trudging through ankle-deep slush, brute force bitter winds and basically no sight whatsoever, I would finally reach my destination:  a cement wall. 

“Well, that’s just great” was all I could think.  All of that effort to try and get back with my family, only to reach a cement wall.  Quick thinking wasn’t really an option at this point, as my brain was seemingly frozen to my skull. 

I could just climb the wall, get to the street (which held the gas station), and find my family.  It seemed easy enough, but I quickly realized: it wasn’t going to happen that way.  There was no way I could climb a 6 foot cement wall that was covered in ice. 

I turned around towards traffic only to realize nobody is stopping to help, so I started trying wave cars down.  Almost immediately, I felt a cold warmth tapping on my shoulder.  Shivers ran down my spine, and it made my hair stand up on end like a frightened cat.

I look up to see a man staring back at me.  I looked to see who it was, but he was just a darkened silhouette.  The snow was blowing and headlights were shining brightly behind him, ominously illuminating him in a calming yet eerie way.  His face was blacked by shadow, and the only part of this man I can recall is the fedora hat and a grey suit that he was wearing.   

Saying nothing at all, he quickly pulled me up and over the wall.  As he’s pulling at my hands, I am looking down towards my feet.  It took about 8 seconds for a speeding car to smash into the cement wall, exactly where I was standing.  That’s it - 8 seconds later, and I would certainly have been dead. 

Realizing when my feet are firmly and safely on the ground beyond the wall, I turn to thank the man.  I owed him my life, and I wanted to hug and praise him.  Except, when I turn around, he’s gone.  Nowhere to be found; as if he had vanished from thin air. 

This concerned me, I didn’t know if something happened to him, or if he had just left.  I asked anyone around if they noticed which way he had gone, but not a single person seen him.  Every person said that the only thing they noticed was me climbing the wall.  There was no man helping me, at least not that they had seen.

The rest of the day went on without much thought.  My Grandpa drove down to pick us up, and our car was being towed away.  None of us were hurt or scratched, and we were all grateful for just that. 

I’m still unsure why my Mother left me sitting in the car that day.  All I can come up with, is that it all happened for a reason - just as everything does in life.  If she hadn’t left me there, I never would have met my Christmas Spirit. 

As days, weeks and years have gone by, I have thought many times about this incident.  I’ve told the story so many times, yet it still gives me goose bumps.  If it were not for this man I would have been dead at 15 years old, but that was not my fate.  Instead, my Christmas spirit was there to pick me up while I was down.

I believe he has been present on more than one life occasion.  For instance, when my first son was born, I saw a darkened shadow of the same man through the windows of the hospital nursery.  I haven’t always made the best of choices as a mother, as I was very young when I had him.  This gives me hope that he’s always been by my son’s side as well, bringing him light on the dark days. 

There is a reason for everything that happens in our existence.  Although I may have not yet figured out what my reason is exactly, every day brings me closer to solving that mystery.  What I do know, is that someone (or something) in this vast universe is looking out for me.  

We will never know what waits for us in the darkened corners of life, and no matter how much I mess things up, the spirit of Christmas past will always and forever have my back.

 

 

Always reach for the sky...

and, plan your next move wisely.