Gotta Get Through This

Gotta Get Through This
We all been through a trial in our life whether something small or major that we have had to tackle on our own. These are the times that we want to prove ourselves to our parents and their generation that we are strong and worthy of being considered a hero. We each can recall that moment we took charge and showed that we are worthy of respect.

I was driving down a long stretch of highway on the way back from Anderson. There was plenty of fields full of cows and horses. I smiled to myself thinking of how many times my mother and I had driven down this road. I had always loved going through all these back ways, although the sun setting made the road look a bit ominous and dark. But I was okay; I was in my nice, toasty car and I had nothing to worry about. Nothing could ruin this serene January evening. My eyes had to be playing tricks on me but the car was starting to swerve ever so slightly. I blinked my eyes, thinking that maybe I was getting tired. Then I paused, I was not quite that sleepy yet and I thought of what it might be as I slowed down. It had to be a flat tire and this was confirmed by the fact the car was starting to be a bit more difficult to control. I pulled over onto the side of the road and shook my head. I had really jinxed myself this time.

I pressed the button on my steering wheel column and my flashers came on. I reached over into the seat and put my thick jacket on. I took a deep breath and stepped out into the cold, early evening air, the wind nipping at my bare neck. I walked around in front of the vehicle to the side off of the road and saw that the back right tire had gone flat. I stuck my hand in my pocket and I swallowed nervously. I had left my phone at home and I did not have any means of communication. To make matter more difficult, I was without a spare tire since my parents had put mine on my brother’s SUV last week. I thought maybe I could flag someone down but that was too risky: me alone and defenseless would not be good. But there was only woods where I had broken down, no houses or anybody going by.

I popped my wrists by pressing down on my knuckles and turning them slightly, and I rubbed my face. These actions would always seem to occur almost involuntary if I was ever stressed out. Survival IQ, the website that I drew most of my survival knowledge from, offered these words of wisdom, “Stress provides us with challenges; it gives us chances to learn about our values and strengths. Stress can show our ability to handle pressure without breaking; it tests our adaptability and flexibility; it can stimulate us to do our best” (“Stress”). Think about the positives, I thought in my head. I’ll be a better person after all this. I knew that my parents would miss me if I was gone too long and they would travel along this same part of the route. They were bound to see the car. However, recalling what had happened to Michael Jordan’s father, I was not about to wait in the car for them. My only choice: to risk a night in the woods.

I got back in the car on the passenger side, and reached behind the seat, grabbing my “survival bag.” Inside I had a poncho, rope, bottled water, peanut butter crackers, a small tea candle, flashlight, first-aid kit and other things that may come in handy if I was ever stranded. The small first aid kit had a pack of band-aids, gouges, Neosporin, aspirin, and medical tape. Chuckling to myself I picked up a small takeout box that was also in the backseat. I had eaten at the New China restaurant earlier that day and had ordered an extra plate to take home. I had never thought that something as simple as finding that food would make me so happy. Now I would not have to forage for food; one less thing to worry about.

A normal person would hate trekking it in the woods but I had grown up in the woods behind my house. I loved being outdoors and the knowledge I had picked up from my family and some books was certain to help me in this situation. I slid over the console and back into the driver’s seat, moving the car just a little bit more off the highway so it would not get hit. I turned off the engine and took the keys from the ignition, putting them in my jeans pocket. I turned off the caution lights so not to drain my battery or draw attention to myself if someone devious should go down the road. I put my bag on to my back, got out, and opened the rear hatch. I leaned over and took out the old picnic blanket and tarp. Being as cold as it was with the sun still a little out, I knew the temperature was going to plummet later that night. I pulled them close to me and shut the hatch, making sure to lock my doors. I looked into the shadowy woods, shifting the bag on my shoulder. Well, better make the best of this.

I walked a few hundred feet into the woods. There were very few small plants growing around the huge pine trees that towered around me. The sun was beginning to hang low on the horizon, and I had just enough time to be a secure and discrete shelter. I stopped at two trees that were around six feet apart and placed my bag down next to one, placing my food on top. I unfolded the dark green tarp and spread it out between the two trees to make sure it would be long enough to make a shelter out of. I was planning on building a “poncho tent” just out of the tarp and rope I had. I was going to use the poncho as something to lay on once I had built this low profile shelter. I took the rope from my bag and unwound it, hoping it was going to be long enough to stretch between the two trees. I tied one end around one tree about knee high and ran the other end underneath the tarp, securing it to the other tree. Surprisingly, there was a little rope left hanging. I was going to leave the extra length of the rope on the tree but I noticed that the middle of the tent-like shelter was sagging. I took my Swiss army knife from my pocket and sawed through the thick rope. I picked it up and went to the center of the newly formed tent. I cut two small slits in the tarp and loop the end around the rope on the inside of the tarp and tree branch, tightening the knot until the roof was taut. I picked up some branches that had fallen off the trees around my shelter and placed them across the ends of the tarp so the flaps would not fly up or the whole tarp blow away (“Shelters”).

I was proud of the shelter I had made and it did not even take me five minutes. I reached in my bag and pulled out my poncho, spreading it across the floor of my shelter. I picked up my bag and food and crawled under the tent. It would keep the wind from blowing against me too badly. If it was going to rain, this would do just perfect to keep me dry. While I was thinking about it, I left my shelter and peered up through the trees the sky was a good bit darker not and it appeared that clouds were rolling in. I knew it would rain later in the night but right now I was cold and hungry. I stuck my hand in the bad and pulled out my lighter. I did not smoke but it was good to carry around with ticks out during the summer.

I made sure the area for the fire was well enough away from my shelter and cleared the area of leaves and anything else that may catch on fire without me willing it too. I gather together enough smaller branches to make a Lean-to and still have left over to feed the fire as it burns. I stuck the longest stick in the ground at a slight angle, then I leaned a lot of the other sticks against the center stick. I pulled some of the needles of the pine trees and laid them in the bottom of “mini tent” I had created. I added some smaller sticks and dried out leaves to the center. I lit a leaf and placed it on top of the kindling and blew on it a little to get the small flame to spread within the structure (“Fire”). It took to fire fairly well although a bit slow. Luckily the wind had died down so I did not have to worry about my fire being blown out, at least not immediately. I sat close to my fire, pulled the blanket close around me, and began to eat my Chinese take out. This was not half bad. I would hate to go home.

My fire had long gone out and I laid curled up in my shelter as the rain pitter-pattered on the top of it. I stretched and looked at my watch, pressing the glow button so I could see the screen. It was eight twenty-five in the morning and I was ready to go home now that the weather had turned so dreary. Then, almost on cue, I heard someone calling my name. I could have jumped through the tent but I resisted and instead picked up all my things, leaving the soggy tarp behind. I walked up through the woods, becoming soaked with the cold rain. I forgot about the rain as I saw my parents standing at the edge of the woods. I ran to them and threw my arms around them. I was getting to go home.

They were expecting the worse but I proved them wrong. After going through that night calmly and using my head to get through everything, I felt it only fair that I was treat more like an adult. I considered myself an adult after getting through things smoothly. We all have the ability to stop and think about a situation without wishing it had never happened and curling up in a ball, giving up before it begins.

If Only

If Only

He was my best friend and I was not there for him. It was my entire fault. If only I had been there, it would not have happened. I could have prevented it all. These were the thoughts that ran through my head that entire day.

I was sleeping heavily, dreaming of my sweetheart at the time. You know, one of those dreams you have fora week in a row after meeting that certain someone. It was just perfect. He and I sat together on a sandy beach, watching the sunset. I could smell the salty, almost sweet smell of the ocean. I felt the warmth of the setting sun beaming across my skin and the sand was fine as sugar as I dug my toes into it. I gazed over at him, smiling. He wore a white button up shirt and his shorts were covered with a bit of sand. He looked at me, his beautiful brownish green eyes sparkling, and leaned in closer to me. I could feel my heart pound in my chest as we got nearer to one another. As we were about to kiss, I heard a loud, piercing noise. However, it was not in the dream. I opened my eyes, extremely annoyed.

The sun was barely shining through my window and my plan to sleep-in was ruined. The noise continued and this time I could tell that it was the ringer to my cell phone; that irritating beeping sound that was supposed to mimic one of my favorite songs. I snatched it off my nightstand and looked at the screen, squinting a little to see the tiny letters. Austin, the name blinking on the phone, was my younger neighbor that lived a house down from me. He was four years younger than I was but he liked to hangout with me and play videogames. He could never get over me, a girl, liking his almost new, red dirt bike. We rode his dirt bike almost everyday and it was the most likely reason for his call. Not today, I was too tired from staying up to around four o’clock that morning, watching my favorite Animes. His name disappeared as I pushed a button to silence the ringer. His name was replaced with the time: eleven o’clock. I groaned, still sleepy, and put the phone back on the nightstand, knocking off an old manga book. I flopped back down into my soft sheets and snuggled back under them. I closed my eyes, sighed deeply and effortlessly fell right back to sleep.

I heard my dad’s voice, trying to wake me. He was another frequent dream wrecker. I could feel the bed sink down on one side as my dad sat down next to me. He said my name softly and shook my shoulder. I opened my eyes and looked up at him, then at the clock. It was three in the afternoon! I thought he was going to fuss at me for sleeping in so late but his eyes looked sad. Then, trying to make his voice sound calming, he said that Austin had been taken to the hospital but he was going to be okay. I did not let him finish. I shot up and started begging for what had happened to him. He had broken his leg while on the dirt bike, my dad explained. He had supposedly put the front brakes on while going down the slope in his yard; one thing you do not want to do unless you want to flip over the handlebars. I was not really listening as he was telling me all this. My mind had gone blank and my lips silent at “broke his leg.” Tears welled up in my eyes, my chest began to burn, and I fell back in my bed in disbelief. Could I have stopped him from being hurt? Was he going to be able to ride with me again? Terrible things came to my head as I bawled, trying to quiet myself with my pillow. Then I thought of only one thing. I wanted to see him for myself and make sure he was truly all right. I regained my composure the best that I could and asked, in a shaky voice, when he would get back home. My dad told me that Ms. Tammy, Austin’s mom, would call me when he was back at home.
However, to drive my guilt home, my dad said that he had told me about Austin’s injury two hours earlier. I did not remember that at all and no matter how hard I try, I cannot think of it even now. I had to be the worst friend ever. I could have told him not to do it. I could have helped him if he needed me. I continued to think these things as I was getting dressed and walked outside. I felt numb, like my heart had been ripped right from my chest. Austin was the closest thing I had to a little brother, and he was one of the few kids on our street that liked to build forts and have sword fights with tall stalks of pampas grass. I sat against the tire of my dad’s Hummer and started to cry again. I kept repeating that I was so sorry for whatever I had done and what I was now being punished for.

Soon the sadness was replaced with anger, and I was furious at myself for not being there with him, for ignoring his phone call. I balled up my fist as a more intense heat in my chest began to wash over me. I cursed at myself aloud and punched the concrete as hard as I could. I did not stop there, no, I repeated several times and with both fist until the feeling return to my battered hands. I did not cry this time as I looked at my bloody and scraped up knuckles. Anger and pain did nothing to take my mind off Austin. I remained sitting there on the hard concrete, leaning against the tire, and feeling no remorse now for hurting myself. Austin was the only one I was worried about then.

My dad stuck his head out the screen door and yelled to me that Austin was home. I snapped alert and sprung to my feet. I raced across my backyard, barefoot through the soft, green grass. I’m coming, Austin, I thought as I ran through my neighbor’s yard and into Austin’s front lawn. I was in such a hurry to see him that I actually tripped and fell face first into the ground. I laid there for two seconds, making sure that I was really unharmed. After accessing the damage, I got back up and walked up to the front door. I knocked on it and half expected Ms. Tammy to answer it, instead, I heard Austin’s voice welcoming me in. I opened the door and looked over at him. His leg was completely encased in a hard white cast that went all the way up to his hip. His eyes were half open and his smile was far from happy. Those painkillers had given him a look of drunken stupor. He told me that he was sorry for getting himself hurt. Tears came to my eyes as I told him that he had not done anything wrong. I was so happy to see with my own eyes that he was truly all right. I blinked away the small teardrops and smiled fondly at him. I sat down on the floor next to the couch and rubbed his head. Suddenly, he reached up and grabbed me wrist, jerking it down to his eye level. He glared at my wounds then at me. He tightened his grip on my wrist and asked through gritted teeth why I had done such a thing. I knew he was seriously angry with me for hurting myself but it was not the time to talk about my issues. Besides, I wanted to cheer him up. I laughed and asked teasingly, “Whatcha been drinking?” His expression softened a little. His words were slurred together even more as he played along with me. He insisted he was not drunk, waving his hands slowly as if to say, “No more for me, thanks.” He smiled and I laughed heartily with him.

Austin’s laughter made me feel like a million bucks that night. I would not leave his side until he went asleep late in the night. I walked home through the yard with only the moonlight lighting my way. I inhaled deeply and looked up to the stars. I stared blankly for a moment then whispered, “Thank you.”
I have known Austin for five years and out of all things we have been through, his leg breaking was probably the one thing that made us as close as we are now. No one could ever replace him and it took nearly losing him to realize that. I know now that I should never take anything for granted, especially a great friend such as him. I do not know where I would be without him; he has always been there to cheer me on. All I know is I would not be as outgoing, active, and kind as this if it was not for him encouraging me to move on when I was down. He can always bring a smile to my face as long as I can make him smile first.