What Could Have Been
Looking back at my life, I feel there were a couple of moments when I cheated death. At the time, it didn't seem that dramatic... like "WOW, I ALMOST DIED!". The event surrounding the incidents was more in the forefront of my mind. But now I look back and I think of what could have been.
The first time, I was in high school, working at the local department store. I was at the register when I saw a bright orange flash back in one of the aisles. Very quickly after, we were told to evacuate the store, that there was a fire. I remember the manager at the time emptying the cash registers of bills, shoving them in a small zippered money bag, desperately trying to save what she could, whether as a good deed or for her own personal benefit I don't know. I remember rushing out of the store, happy that I was in the front near the exits. Very quickly thereafter, the whole store was engulfed in flames. And it was a HUGE store. My mother was on the volunteer ambulance corps and my brother a firefighter, so I'm sure I saw them both in the parking lot. They fought the fire for over 24 hours but could not save the building. The fire was started in the pool chemical section of the store which was why it progressed so quickly and was so terribly damaging. Nobody died or was injured, but to this day I think it is still considered the worst fire my small hometown has ever seen. And I was there.
The second time, I had come home from work, again during high school, I think. My parents had been away for the weekend, and their car wasn't there but our dog was out. I figured that they had come home and that my mom went out to the store or something. The way my house was set up, it was built into a hill so the driveway was above the house, and you had to descend two flights of stairs to get to the front door after passing what we called the back door. I should have noticed then that the screen on the second floor was askew, but I didn't. (In hindsight, I guess I should have also noticed the police car at the bottom of the drive that lead to our house and 6 others.) The door was open, with just the screen door shut, and so I went inside and said "hello" to no answer. I went upstairs and at that point noticed that my father's gun cabinet was open. That's when the fear hit and I ran down and out. I stood there dumbfounded, realizing I didn't have a phone. Stupidly, I ran back in and grabbed the cordless phone and ran out of the house, and up the stairs to the road, my dog in tow. I called my brother, who lived in the same town and he told me to go talk to the cops and that he would be right there. A neighborhood kid, a good friend of our family, and some buddies had robbed the houses on our road. Obviously one was looking out of my window and when I approached, they ran out of the house and into the woods, with my father's guns. They planned on selling the guns in the city for drug money. I always thought that if I were one second earlier, or surprised them, that I could have been shot. But I wasn't. And in the end, my father got his prized guns back and we have never spoken to, or seen, that kid again.
There are other times, too. When I fell out of the back of my parent's station wagon onto a main road, miraculously unhurt and without any cars behind our vehicle to run me over. Kicked in the head by a kid on a swing when I was small, with only two black eyes to show for it. My leg caught in the giant wheel of a horse-drawn surrey - not life-threatening, but could have changed my life drastically if the kids didn't stop the horses when they did. We all have stories like these, I'm sure. Times when things could have been so different if we were just one second earlier, or later. Our time is our time, I suppose. And the times that weren't leave us with a few scars and a story to tell.
The first time, I was in high school, working at the local department store. I was at the register when I saw a bright orange flash back in one of the aisles. Very quickly after, we were told to evacuate the store, that there was a fire. I remember the manager at the time emptying the cash registers of bills, shoving them in a small zippered money bag, desperately trying to save what she could, whether as a good deed or for her own personal benefit I don't know. I remember rushing out of the store, happy that I was in the front near the exits. Very quickly thereafter, the whole store was engulfed in flames. And it was a HUGE store. My mother was on the volunteer ambulance corps and my brother a firefighter, so I'm sure I saw them both in the parking lot. They fought the fire for over 24 hours but could not save the building. The fire was started in the pool chemical section of the store which was why it progressed so quickly and was so terribly damaging. Nobody died or was injured, but to this day I think it is still considered the worst fire my small hometown has ever seen. And I was there.
The second time, I had come home from work, again during high school, I think. My parents had been away for the weekend, and their car wasn't there but our dog was out. I figured that they had come home and that my mom went out to the store or something. The way my house was set up, it was built into a hill so the driveway was above the house, and you had to descend two flights of stairs to get to the front door after passing what we called the back door. I should have noticed then that the screen on the second floor was askew, but I didn't. (In hindsight, I guess I should have also noticed the police car at the bottom of the drive that lead to our house and 6 others.) The door was open, with just the screen door shut, and so I went inside and said "hello" to no answer. I went upstairs and at that point noticed that my father's gun cabinet was open. That's when the fear hit and I ran down and out. I stood there dumbfounded, realizing I didn't have a phone. Stupidly, I ran back in and grabbed the cordless phone and ran out of the house, and up the stairs to the road, my dog in tow. I called my brother, who lived in the same town and he told me to go talk to the cops and that he would be right there. A neighborhood kid, a good friend of our family, and some buddies had robbed the houses on our road. Obviously one was looking out of my window and when I approached, they ran out of the house and into the woods, with my father's guns. They planned on selling the guns in the city for drug money. I always thought that if I were one second earlier, or surprised them, that I could have been shot. But I wasn't. And in the end, my father got his prized guns back and we have never spoken to, or seen, that kid again.
There are other times, too. When I fell out of the back of my parent's station wagon onto a main road, miraculously unhurt and without any cars behind our vehicle to run me over. Kicked in the head by a kid on a swing when I was small, with only two black eyes to show for it. My leg caught in the giant wheel of a horse-drawn surrey - not life-threatening, but could have changed my life drastically if the kids didn't stop the horses when they did. We all have stories like these, I'm sure. Times when things could have been so different if we were just one second earlier, or later. Our time is our time, I suppose. And the times that weren't leave us with a few scars and a story to tell.
posted by Tracy at 9:33 AM
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