STITCH: “A Stitch in Time “ By Nan Ressue

Word: STITCH
Word Count: 461
“A Stitch in Time “
By Nan Ressue
It was such a warm, loving evening with friends who care; one with sincere conversation, genuine laughter and a few tears sprinkled in. But the time to leave had inevitably arrived, saying goodnight to people I loved and climbing into my car for the solitary ride home… It was the seasonal mild, summer night with its velvety blackness enfolding me as I paused for a moment at the crest of my favorite long, winding hill, plunging in the darkness in the old familiar way.
I tipped over the crest and began the decent, slowly gaining speed as gravity tugged at the wheels. It was a little faster than I was used to and thought I would pump the brakes for best control. My hands clutched the wheel and my fingers turned white as my foot slapped the floorboards desperately hoping for that comforting grab of control. There was none. I’m still making the curves OK I told myself as the car swerved around one after the other, hurtling downward, but can I make the next one? The hill went on forever and ever, now vibrating, faster, more blurred, more frightening and now a sickening screech of metal as I sideswiped an oncoming car, horn blaring and my stomach twisting. I know there is a right angle turn at the bottom. Here it comes, here it comes. A shriek ripped from my lips and then SILENCE…. I seemed to watch in slow motion as the car tumbled end over end, finally coming to rest in in the wooded ravine at the base of the hill on its crushed roof with a body dangling upside down in the driver’s seat.,.
I became an interested spectator, floating above the scene, watching frantic efforts to free my body before the explosion, revolving red lights on the emergency vehicles outlining the car wreck and the trapped driver in desperate condition.
I woke up on the operating table with two faces peering down into mine.
“I think I can straighten her jawline doctor and stitch up the facial gashes. The burns will be the worst pain but losing her eyes will hurt her the most.”
He was wrong. The greater pain was waiting in the corridor.
They wheeled me back to the room which would be mine for a lengthy stay and eased me gingerly into the bed.
I was so very happy to hear my mother and sister’s voices in the hall. They approached the bed and gently asked”, We’re sorry to disturb you but we’re looking for Suzanne Ames’ room. We can’t seem to find her”
That was the day I discovered that even though my eyes could no longer see, they could still cry.

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