After sleeping in on my last week of summer vacation, before entering seventh grade, I decided on a late breakfast of Cinnamon Swirls cereal and put in a DVD called Zathura. After watching only about five minutes of the movie, I heard it. The sounds that would soon change my perspective on many things. It sounded like a bomb had gone off just outside my window. I was scared. I could see the dirt in the air. I sprinted downstairs and called my grandparents who lived on the same property. As soon as I saw my grandparents exit their front door, I too came outside. I braced myself for what I was about to see. It was worse than I could imagine. I stared at the silver car wrapped around the tree right in front of the living room that I had just been in, minutes ago. I could feel myself shake as I heard my Grandma pray. We sprinted into the house to call 911. I called my Dad at work; he must have thought I was exaggerating for he didn’t leave work immediately.
My Grandpa kneeled there beside the broken car talking to who he said was a young girl. My Grandma begged my Grandpa to step away from the car. We could smell the gasoline. The cars taillight was on the other side of the yard. Everywhere we stepped there was shattered glass. But my Grandpa wouldn’t step away he said, “If this were my granddaughter I would want someone with her.” Fairly soon a police officer pulled up and immediately called for more help. Just seconds later a young teenage boy, that I would soon learn was Josh, stepped out of his car frantically and asked if the girl looked to be about seventeen with blond hair. He was able to identify her as Amanda, his girlfriend. My Grandma immediately walked over, rubbed his back, and tried to give words of encouragement in-between his phone calls trying to contact both of their parents. I felt so bad for them. Sure, I didn’t know them, but at that moment I felt like I had.
After awhile fire trucks, more police cars, and an ambulance came. They knew they had to call Mercy Flight. At that time, my Dad had come home and discussed where they should land the helicopter. My Mom picked me up and took me back to work with her. I’m sorry to say that the next morning, August 30th, she passed away after donating all her good organs.
I placed the first flowers up by the tree. In a matter of days, the whole tree was surrounded by flowers, teddy bears, poems and other items that you could hardly see the mulch. It touched me to see how much one person can touch so many lives.






Goodbye,

Mandy