Memories

So many chances were given yet ever so many other directions were taken and what is to show for it. What sort of profit where they? All were for naught, not some but all. Yes, people did laugh. Some at, but most with. Laughter is for not, nothing. I do believe it began way back in my early teens, being a rather good student in my younger years and having a mother was a teacher, there was no reason for me not to be. In this day and time she teaches fourth grade but then teaching kindergarten, she brought in the bacon as my mommy and daddy too. A superwoman if you will and, although in those times bacon came in the form of rice and beans, it was what it was. Not that we are all high and mighty now, sipping fine wines and ordering the chauffeur to take us on midnight drives, but we are a hair better off than we were then. We lived with my grandmother for a season which I do not remember. My father, well I do not remember my father distinctly but the sole memory I do retain in my, ever so damaged, memory banks. Is a stare he would give on seeing something unsatisfactory. That combined with a low, six-second guttural rumble of the chest. And the notion that the man loved to fish are the sole memories I have of my earthly father. Now when the subject of my family is brought up, which happens far less often than more. I, ever so calmly, inform the person of his demise. These situations are altogether awkward for the other person, leaving them stammering and stuttering. Not in that order.
A doctors said it best when he said, “Jesse’s memory is interesting. Picture his head as a file cabinet and every memory as a file. Now while the accident was taking place, the car and his head came into direct contact with the cedar tree, metaphorically speaking files were strewn all over the road, and when the emergency crew arrived at the accident. They found the broken cedar tree and a messed up Saturn with the gentleman lying in it draped across the front two seats. Instead of scrambling around, picking up the “files”, they called in Pegasus the “lead horse” of the emergency helicopters. Everything in the last paragraph was told me by my mother, I remember none of it and rightfully so.

Let’s see… How should I described the long, arduous road to going from a wheelchair to being enabled to take steps, then finally walk. Unsteady at first but after 1001 falls. I walk. Almost everything in life is both a blessing and a curse, having the ability to be used for good or bad.  And my trial, all thanks to the Lord my God and Jesus Christ, was far easier than hard. Not saying that surviving the accident, undergoing brain surgery, or living through three + grand mal seizures was easy. But seeing that my memory is some degree worse than good, I will honestly say that my situation as a whole was, is, and will continue to be far the better than bad. I simply am forced to tell you that Jesus Christ is the sole reason I walk. Pegasus successfully transported from the crash site to UVA hospital where I spent three months fighting for my life. But it was only Him that I can give the props to.

I have to rely on my mother and my grandmother for detailed memories of what transpired during the half months in the hospital, but in all reality I am alive and I wouldn’t want to worry their pretty little heads about all that nonsense or mine for that matter. Since there are many things are against me working, including being labeled permanently disabled, I have set out to do my part in the never-ending struggle that goes by the name of “disability”.

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