Willow Grove and Germantown
The corner is always busy. Constant movement, cars honking, traffic jams, people trying to get from here to there. Ding, ding. The bell on the door of the dry cleaners constantly rings. If the saying from It’s a Wonderful Life is really true than the wingless angels must love this place. Two doors down, the smell from the bakery wafts through the air in the warm summer breeze. Going into the bakery every morning on the way to school has become a habit for me. Across the street the sun is reflected off the brass bed in the store window, making it look as though it was made of gold. I love every thing about this corner. These bits of sensual information are the things I look forward to in the mornings, the things that made it as comforting as my home, and also the things that made me glad to leave.
Everybody has two sides, a good side and a bad side. This corner is no different. I didn’t see this bad side until the week before Halloween. Sitting in the car driving with my brother past the corner in the late evening, the car is rocked heavily as if the earth was shook off its axis. Suddenly cars are no longer honking for the same reasons. The lady in her Jetta is no longer holding up traffic while she fixes her hair, the shouts of the impatient drivers are no longer heard. Everything is silent. Everything is at a dead standstill as if someone hit the pause button on a remote control. Only they hit the button at the wrong time, the worst possible minute.
This traffic jam isn’t from the early morning commute. There is no longer the shimmering of the sun in the store window, no longer the smell of fresh bread, no longer the ringing of the dry cleaner’s bell. Something happened, something bad. The smell of burnt rubber and gas replaces the smell of fresh bread. The sound of tires screeching and metal hitting metal replace the ringing of the dry cleaner’s bell. Where are the angels when you need them? The horn of one car can still be heard, one long monotone note. I am expecting, no I am hoping to hear “This is a test, this is only a test.”
Panic starts to embody this corner and everything on it, taking over like the black plague. I recognize that car horn. I realize that horn is coming from our car. It can’t be. I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it. What is happening? The flashing lights through the smoke pull me back to earth in the car on the corner I used to love, the last place I want to be. A big chubby hand gently pushes me down. “Stay down, don’t try to move,” says the gruff voiced police officer who has obviously had one too many doughnuts. “Help is on the way.”
I don’t want to stay sitting in the car. I want to be outside of the mangled car I once loved. I want to be away from the smoke and heat. People start to gather. Curiosity got the better of them. Didn’t they learn anything from what happened to the cat? A deep chill comes over me, no longer the warm summer breeze I loved about this corner. I feel someone’s fingers on the back of my neck, I turn around expecting to see the person that was in the car with me, explaining that it was all a horrible mistake. Only no one is there, just the heavy darkness that surrounds this scene like a thick blanket.
As I turn back around I call out to my brother, silence answers me as the smoke surrounds me blocking my view of the drivers seat. It is then that the pain kicks in, like a thousand red hot pokers stabbing my leg. Suddenly reality started to devour me like a starved tiger devouring its prey. The same big chubby calloused hand meets me again, only this time it is not as gentle and the gruff voice is even less comforting, if that was possible. “It’s gonna be okay. Keep your eyes in me. Don’t look down or to the side, just focus on me.” But I couldn’t help but look at my brother unmoving. I couldn’t help but look down seeing the blood, the heat, the fire. I found my self wanting to speak, wanting to yell but all that came out was a tiny whisper, just barely audible above the autumn wind. “How can this be okay?” The blanket was getting heavier, since the darkness was getting darker until there was nothing but black. I could barely breathe. My world came crashing down. I felt the pain take over and let the darkness consume me.
This corner will never be the same. The constant movement is too constant, preventing me from getting anywhere. The honking of horns gives me a headache. The bell of the dry cleaners is now forever associated in my mind with the screeching of breaks. The smell of the fresh bread now makes me sick. The morning sun reflecting off the brass bed is now reflected in my eyes, blocking my field of vision. The clinking of my crutches will now follow me everywhere for the rest of my life. This is no longer the corner I love. I need a new corner….