Thankful

CW: strong language, injury, scenes of violence

Late November - the ideal time to show gratitude - to your family, friends, lovers, and the sheer force of will that brought you yet again to your 19th Thanksgiving around the sun.

Some say every year is the same. You see the same people plus or minus a few, eat the same food at the same table, watch the same teams on TV. And let’s be real - is the food even that good? I mean stuffing is great, but turkey? Come on. The most overrated of all poultry.

But one tradition stood above all - the Turkey Bowl - the most anticipated of all backyard games, getting the gents from the neighborhood together for an annual romp on the turf. Where years later they’ll still tell you how they remember the time you threw five interceptions in a single game. Honestly, it’s not my fault they couldn’t get open.

I didn’t make it.

Groggy, almost too well rested finding myself in an actual mattress after two months away on a Twin XL. But time to put my game face on, slam a cup of coffee and head out the door. My mom caught me on the way out, handed me a breakfast sandwich and said, “Good luck! Have fun!” 

This year, I was ready to perform. Hell, maybe I’d even catch a tuddy. Anything’s possible. I hopped into my parents’ well-seasoned Honda Accord and threw my cleats on the passenger seat. Only five minutes down the road. An easy commute on this crisp clear morning, I pulled out of the cul-de-sac and made a right.

Coldplay’s Viva La Vida echoed through the speakers as I approached the stop sign. I stuffed a piece of the breakfast sandwich into my mouth, glanced right, then left, pressed the gas pedal, and life changed forever.

Now the funny thing I’ve come to learn about life is that it is most of the time completely random, but a cascading series of questionable decisions can certainly influence the outcome. Maybe not to the extent of a jet engine falling from the sky and crushing you while you’re fast asleep, but something like that has happened to someone at some point, so I guess it is actually theoretically possible. 

But as I pressed that gas pedal on my parents’ old Accord and attempted to proceed through the intersection, a cascading cacophony of questionable decisions came back to bite me in my proverbial ass. Lost in the bliss and excitement of Coldplay’s dulcet tones, the delectable combined taste of a bacon, egg, and cheese, and my anxiety to make it to the Bowl on time, I failed to notice the approaching sedan. 

BANG! Crunching metal, screeching tires, and slamming brakes echo into the early morning. Time slowed to a crawl as I felt the imminent impact. My life did not in fact flash before my eyes, but I did wonder, “Holy shit, am I about to die?” The sedan strikes the right front side of my vehicle and sends me reeling toward the woods.

Adrenaline pumps through my veins as I try to regain control of the car, and I’m knocked from the road and toward the trees I’ve passed thousands of times before - never once thinking “Wow, I hope I never end up wrapped around one of these bad boys.” 

I slam the brakes. Nothing happens. No airbags deploy. By some miracle of God or happenstance of physics, I roll to a stop before the oncoming forest in front of me.

I sit there stunned in silence - Coldplay’s dulcet tones knocked off the airwaves and replaced with the sound of me alone in the woods. I check myself. I feel fine… I think? I force the door open with a CRACK! and stumble out of the car, feeling the wet grass seep through my cotton socks. “I don’t need shoes, I’ll just put my cleats on when I get there since driving with them on might be dangerous.” Idiot.

I look upon the mangled wreckage of what used to be my reliable ride. Totaled. No way anyone was driving it out of here. I’d been in a fender bender before. I’d even hit a deer, but this… this was some serious shit. My parents were going to kill me. 

“Oh my God! Johnathan, what did you do?!” A woman’s voice cries out from behind me, as two people and a Pomeranian emerge from the sedan. 

“He just came out of nowhere right in front of us. I…I couldn’t stop in time.” Jonathan stammers as they rush over to my car.

I relive that moment over and over in my head. Did they see me? At all?

I yell out, “Oh shit I’m so sorry I didn’t see you at all I’m so fucking sorry.” But they just ran right past me. Jonathan yells out, “Linz, call 911! This kid looks bad right now. Come on… come on you’re gonna be ok.”

Now I’m wondering just what the heck is going on. I look at him running toward my car and yell, “No no, I think I’m ok, just a little banged up. Maybe a little sore but that’s it.”

Linz pulls at the car door, “It.. it won’t budge, it’s fucking jammed. It’s ok, it’s ok we’re gonna get you out of there.” 

That’s weird. It opened right up for me. I mean maybe a little elbow grease but it wasn't too bad.

Crowds start to gather around the clearing. Onlookers and potential Good Samaritans rubbernecked the roadside to survey the scene. 

“It was that green car’s fault. Saw him pull out right in front of the sedan. What a dumbass. Ruined their holiday,” scoffed this asshole presumably named Barry based on the nametag adorning his mechanic’s uniform.

Tears well over the emotional dam of my eyes, ready to burst forward and flood down my face. “I am a dumbass, Barry, and I feel… I feel really fucking bad about it okay.” 

I looked to my right as a police officer wrote Barry’s account on a notepad.

“D-do you want to take my statement?” I sniffled with snot pouring down my nose.

“Thanks for stopping. I think that’ll be all we need” the officer replied. 

“Oh.. ok.” Guy didn’t even offer me a tissue. Kinda rude.

Sirens shrilled as the ambulance and firetruck approached. Was that really necessary? Everyone seemed fine.

Firefighters and EMS rushed into the clearing with a giant metal claw looking thing. What did they need that for? The engine roared to life as they clamped on to the driver-side door and began to peel it away.

Wait… who is in there? Is that me? Frantic, I join the unfolding scene. “H-hello! Can anyone hear me??” Everything looks different. They’re pulling someone out now. His face is unrecognizable - beaten, bruised, bloody. Shrapnel of shattered glass, branches, and leaves cover his body as they load him on the stretcher. Why wasn’t he wearing shoes? My head’s throbbing. My vision blurs. Everything’s fading. And then nothing.

The doctors said it’s not uncommon to experience a feeling of euphoria when you’re that close to death. Something about all these chemicals being released in your brain as a last bit of comfort before you go. They said I was in a coma for a month. Tom only threw three picks at the Bowl this year. Amateur hour per usual. 

But you can’t tell me I wasn’t there… I saw the whole thing. The commotion, the people. How did I know their names?

Five broken ribs, a busted femur, a punctured lung, and severe concussion later I’m still kicking.

I can’t explain it but I can tell you this year, I’m thankful to be alive.