5.

I stood in front of Dreamwood Terrace, unable to move. The wind tangled my hair. I watched people move around me as the sun beat down upon the sidewalk. Today was the day. The anniversary of my parents death.  I watched the fountain trickle slowly into the basin. I knew I should probably move. I had to get to work, but I felt paralyzed. A man to my right  jostled me into the street, closer to the fountain. I peered into the basin, only to find myself staring into the eyes of a girl I didn't recognize. Her lips  looked blue, her hair wild, and her cheeks flushed. Startled by my haunting reflection, I took a step back, landing on a searing hot tile by the fountain. Before I could even register what was happening, a blue subaru  came careening out of nowhere. Its horn blaring and its headlights flashing, it was clear I wouldn’t get out of the way in time. As I let out a desperate scream, I felt myself being pushed out of the way by a man next to me. Although out of  the car’s path, I was launched into the ever widening pothole to my left. All I could see was a flashing blue light as I fell farther and farther into the hole. Is this what it feels like right before you die? The fear of suffering the same fate as my parents overtook me, and I blacked out.

I woke up surrounded by clothes in the back of a storage closet, but I felt surprisingly calm. I was alive. I felt shocked and physically drained, but I knew I would be okay. Today, the very day my parents lost their life, I had faced the same fate and survived. For the first time since I got to Dreamwood Terrace, I knew I was going to be okay.

4.

I slowly stirred the vat of oatmeal in the kitchen of New Hope, lost in my thoughts. Jason, one of the younger boys living here, wandered in and asked if he could help make breakfast. I hoisted him up to the pot and was reminded of my first few weeks here. It was a blur of tight smiles, sympathetic glances, and awkward embraces. I was older than Jason is now, but still oblivious to what was in store for me. After the crash, it took me two years before I could get into a car again and five years before I could be behind the wheel. I still can't drive past the pub without feeling the scars burn on my shoulder.

Jason hopped off the stool and scurried away after I doled out the oatmeal and handed him a bowl. I worked with Christina and Sarah to tear sheets off beds and throw them in the giant washers before heading out the door to the minute clinic. I stepped out into the morning air and the world seemed calm, as if sheltered by the sky and its blanket of dark clouds. The trees loomed in front of me, completely still. All I could hear was the crackling of a fire to my right. Then suddenly a women burst into frantic laughter, her face framed by the dancing light.  Eager to avoid an encounter I tried to walk quickly to my car, but she pulled me into a conversation about New Hope and her friend Sarah, a volunteer at the children's home.

I arrived at the minute clinic a little later than expected, and I moved quickly to make up for lost time. It hasn't been that long since I started working here, but I can already feel my mind going numb. I end up with too much time to think about what I've given up to be here, and then I just feel guilty for even thinking about turning my back on Christina and New Hope. I have to continuously remind myself that I'm here to give back and to confront the trauma that has plagued the past fifteen years of my life. But that’s getting pretty hard to do as the days whip by in a blur of flu shots, oatmeal, and grubby hands.