[F]or my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. Alfred, Lord Tennyson
As I’ve grown older, one of the things I’ve learned is that out of even great calamities something good always comes out of them. The most obvious example is that of Christians who believe that if Jesus had not been crucified and died as he did, He would not have resurrected and we would not believe that He is the son of God. My first experience with this happened when I got hit by a car as I was going to school.
It was a Wednesday afternoon and I was returning to school after eating lunch at home. I sometimes ate at the school dining hall, but other times went home. On Wednesday afternoons we used to go to confession. I was ready to confess all of the sins that a 7-year old has committed. It had been raining for the past few days but finally the sun was shining, and it was a really beautiful afternoon.
I got out of the bus, went in front of it, I looked around: all clear; and began to cross the street. BANG! I felt that something had hit me on the side, lifted me up and thrown me high in the sky. I landed in a puddle and, of course, began to howl. I could see that I was laying on the street, saw the bus driver jump out of the bus through his window, ran over, picked me up and was trying to console me. I got my bearings, stopped crying and he put me down. I guess I was alright because I was standing up and it didn’t hurt much. I saw that the car that had hit me had stopped. There were three people in it: two men and a woman. The woman was crying hysterically, and the men were also trying to console me. They asked me for my home telephone number, where I lived, etc. I told them that I wanted to go to school and that I was okay. I got in the car with them. The woman was still crying but not as bad as before; I told her I was okay. I still remember the man who was driving: his hands and his arms were shaking really bad. I tried to give them directions to the school, but we drove in circles a few times as the driver was really shaken up. We finally made it, I said thank you and went in.
I got to class just in time and was happy that the side of my pants where I had fallen in the puddle were now pretty dry—get ready for confession.
Suddenly the classroom door opened, and the school director who was a priest, and my Mother came in; Mom was crying. She hugged me and told me that we were going home. When we got home, Mom put me to bed. Our next-door neighbor was a doctor and he came to examine me—nothing other than a small bruise on the side of my hip. Mom said I was going to stay home for a couple of days to make sure I was okay. She was a Red Cross volunteer nurse, so she knew about this kind of stuff.
Later that afternoon, the people whose car had hit me came by to visit me. They were really nice; and no more crying. The bought me a box of “Lenguas de Gato” (Cat tongues)—milk chocolates shaped in cat tongues. Chocolate cat tongues were expensive and a super treat for a 7-year old chocolate lover. Our other close friends also stopped by to see how I was doing, all bearing treats. A lot of good came out of the accident. For me it was like an early Christmas and I was a king; though I don’t recommend being hit by a car as a means for getting attention.
By: Homeless with a Laptop, That is my Name Бездомные с ноутбуком, это мое имя
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