Pieces Of Me

by Abby Thorson, Guest Writer

Literature, Contest

Nineteen years old is too young to die, especially on Christmas. Black ice sends the semi-truck barreling across the centerline, its blinding headlights fixated on my car as its next target. Tires screech, horns scream, and metal collides in a deafening explosion, the impact disintegrating the glass and hurling my twisted body from the car. I lie motionless as frigid snow burns my skin, excruciating pain clawing at my insides. Darkness soon floods my vision, and light seeps out of my soul into the surrounding void. A heavenly blanket of snow as delicate as an angel’s wings covers my lifeless body, faint sirens echoing in the distance.

Medics wheel my body down the hallway, and mournful applause from the transplant team greets me. I am grateful for their dedication in spreading the essential gift of life throughout the world, and I think of anxious parents comforting their sickly children in hospitals all over, praying that their little ones survive the holiday season. They watch the light in their child, once brightly-lit, slowly flicker out. Christmas music attempts to dance through the decorated halls, but it dies as it creeps further into the wards, the fear of each family swallowing it. Parents long for a miracle, but they are burdened with guilt, aware that the price of these gifts is nearly impossible to bear.

My light does not die out. Rather, it explodes into infinite pieces, radiating gifts that are more precious than any present under a Christmas tree. Pieces of me provide light in the darkest of places, and lights that once flickered now shine brighter than ever. Lily’s heart beats to a new rhythm as she returns home for the first time, the illuminating warmth of the fireplace welcoming her. Henry breathes a deep sigh of relief and cherishes a family dinner, glowing candles decorating the table. Simone views the world through my eyes, the snow gently fluttering as radiant and festive lights blaze against the endless sky. The unpredictability of life is daunting, and the most valuable gift one can receive is another day of existence. Nineteen years old is too young to die, especially on Christmas, but I die knowing that my life made a difference.

DISCLAIMER: The opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints expressed by the various authors in this paper do not necessarily reflect the opinions, beliefs, and viewpoints of Kamiak High School or The Gauntlet.