by Angela Death
For The Writer's Cramp
|I remember as a child running through the yard as my father raked the leaves on cold, autumn days. I would laugh as I would jump into the crunchy, colorful piles, causing the leaves to fly everywhere. My father would half-heartedly scold me as he laughed at my shenanigans.
I loved the reds and golds of the leaves. It was always an indication that Halloween was near. Halloween was one of my favorite holidays as a child.
Then one dreadful winter day it happened. I was sitting in the backseat of my parents’ car, just humming a little tune as we drove to the grocery store. The light turned green and my father started to cross the intersection when the semi-truck hit a patch of ice and, unable to stop in time, ran the red light and slammed right into our car.
Thankfully, everyone managed to live through the accident, but I had so much head trauma that I ended up losing my eyesight. I went through many years of physical therapy in order to walk, talk and do most basic things, but I was never able to see again.
I can still hear the crunching of the leaves and the children laughing as they jump into the piles in their yards with their fathers half-heartedly scolding them. But I will never again see the beautiful reds and golds of the changing leaves that indicated that Autumn had, indeed, arrived and Halloween would soon grace our lives.