One red morning, I woke up to the smell of black bacon and poorly flipped pancakes. Although she is wise and strong, Aunt Martha had absolutely no business in the kitchen. I looked at the stove and then back at her. “Peter, I don’t think you look very satisfied for a nineteen year old man.” we both smile. “How about we go to the diner for breakfast?” I ask, almost pleading. She looks up at me, “As you may have noticed, I do that every morning anyway.” she laughed.
Upon returning from the diner, we shared a very quiet horse ride. I was riding her stallion, Thunder. Aunt Martha was riding her mare, Lightning. Through the trees which lined the side of the winding dirt rode, I saw the shining white sun. That road always reminded me of the accident which claimed my parents life.
The sun was reaching through those same trees that I would pass by in six years. Morning came quick, and my parents had the car packed and ready before I woke up. I just had to sit down and smile, in the back seat. Due to my mother’s haste, she had forgotten to buckle up. My father always cured a stressful morning, night, and(or) afternoon with his flask of whiskey, which always stayed in his jacket pocket.
My mother had fallen asleep, and I was awake and unaware of the disaster to come. My father over(or under)-reacted when an owl had flown past his line of vision. He quickly turned the wheel and the car soared off the road and almost achieved flight, if it weren’t for a large tree. My mother didn’t wake up at all. She just exited the car in an unhealthy manner through the wind shield. My father spilled his forehead on the steering wheel.
I unbuckled and crawled over the seat to see if my father and mother were okay, but they were most certainly not. I had already gotten my father’s blood on my hands and face when I reached for my mother. Apparently, I was wounded and lost consciousness. I last remember seeing my Aunt Martha galloping quickly on Lightning toward the car through the rear-view mirror. That morning was definitely a scar in my life.
“Peter, are you okay?” Aunt Martha asked, “You kind of spaced out after we passed up the site of the accident. I thought you may have been okay, I am sorry.” she looked worried. “No, no Aunt Martha, it is okay. I just like to pay my respect to my mother.” I kept looking forward unto the winding road.