Autobiography Essay, Research Paper
All my fear is gone.
“Goal! Goal!” Announcer would be yelling if he were broadcasting this boring recreational game. My sister’s team had just slipped in a goal. What was going on I really didn’t know, but all I did know was that I was watching my sister’s soccer game on this cheerful bright Saturday. Everything was going great. My best year of school, 5th grade, was over; the best time of the year was here and I had no worries in the world. I just had to sit back and relax. I really wasn’t at this game in my mind, all I could think about were what my friends and I were going to do all summer.
The game was dull and frustrating to watch. The ball flew back and forth with a group following it like a pack of wolves following a piece of meat. There was no real strategy going on, it was just the best player gets the ball and hope that the whole group doesn’t get in the way. There was no ball control, the ball flying through the air aimlessly, and kids falling down left and right. It was like zooball but with boundaries and an occasional whistle from the referee. This is what recreation soccer was like, even though the kids were two to four years older than I was. None of the kids had the skills I had, and I had been playing competition soccer for over three years and could say our team wasn’t too bad.
My sister, Aubrey, who has glistering brown hair and looks a lot like me, was playing on one of the foolish coed recreation teams that like to chase the ball. She wasn’t very competitive, like I was. I guess it was because she was a girl. Her intentions were to have an activity where she could exercise but not be hassled by people. Boy, was she wrong. The guys on the team were very competitive and they didn’t like the girls just prancing to the ball, they just got in the way when they did that. My sister got yelled at a couple of times from her guy teammates for not being as aggressive as they were, but I guess that is what she gets for playing coed soccer.
After about an hour of the frustrating game, but a time of great meditation for me, my grandmother arrived. She was driving a forest green Buick that you see older people drive. My grandma isn’t like most grandmothers, short, quiet, and one of the nicest people you know. Well, my grandma is not that small, I would say just right for her size. She always has something to say and she’ll tell you everything: what she thinks how she feels and what you should do. She is very nice, but when something goes the way she doesn’t want it to, then you will definitely hear about it. It’s like the sound of rampaging animals. You can’t miss her yelling, it’s so loud and she doesn’t stop. I guess it is because of all the thrill she has for us to succeed, but my grandma says, “It’s the love I have for you that is yelling.”
That’s how she is. It doesn’t bother me, but others probably think she is out of her mind. Right then I realized that her yelling wasn’t that bad because while I was sitting there in my tranquil mood, I couldn’t hear her. Maybe it was because I was in such a deep meditation or I’m just used to her yelling at everything.
At the end of the game we discussed where we should to go for a refreshing drink. I really wasn’t worried where we were going as long as this drink would cool me from the hot penetrating sun. My grandma and mother were talking about who was going with whom, when I realized I didn’t even know what the score of the game was. I didn’t trouble to ask my sister that would be rude coming to her game and not paying any attention to it. By now my mom and grandma had decided what they were doing. My mom called to us, “Aubrey, Jeremy, I’m going home, but grandma could take you somewhere.”
I responded, “Where is she…” when my grandma’s hollering interrupted me. “Let’s go you two. We’ll go anywhere you want.” Excitedly, Aubrey jumped up yelling, “Let’s go to 7-11!” Showing all the energy she didn’t use in the game.
“I guess I’ll go,” I replied, as Aubrey nodded her head in agreement. But what I didn’t know was that decision would bring me disaster.
As we traveled out of the parking lot, I in the front next to my grandma driving and my sister behind me, I was crouched down, blocking the sun from disturbing my reading. I had a comic book from my comic book collection, which was stacked on the car’s well-furnished floor. “How much do you guys need for drinks?” My grandma asked, I didn’t reply. I was too much into my reading. My sister was into a conversation with my grandma before we even got close to leaving the parking lot.
As we entered the road, my grandma reached down into her purse and attempted to pull out a bundle of money. But suddenly, with my head down by the glove compartment, something happened so fast I didn’t even know what happened. I heard a crash, of two heavy objects clashing against each other. As I raised my head, I felt as though I was turned upside down for hours then back up. I lifted my head in suffering; I was so confused, like a lost little child in a crowd of people. All I could see in the front of the car was a heavy white cloak of smoke lifting into the sky. Out of my confusion, I opened the door. It took a bit more might than usual. Out of the car I didn’t think to look around and see how everyone was. I just had an instinct that I should get out of the car. With the door creaking open, the sun beamed into my face making me squint with extreme strength. Looking at the car I noticed it was crushed in the front, rolls of the metal plated car stood out like flab from a obese person and in the front of the car stood a huge white freight truck standing eight feet tall and very dominate over my grandam’s car. The truck didn’t even look like it had a scrape on it.
At that moment a pain struck me. I had a massive headache. Putting my hand on my head to try and relieve the pain, something liquid feeling, much thicker than water. As I looked at my hand a pool of blood drooled down like thick red syrup, then it slowly dripped off into a puddle of blood on the ground. In surprise, I jumped down and looked into the car’s side mirror. My face was covered with thick red blood. I couldn’t see out of my right eye because a huge gash was opened above my eyebrow. Realizing this I became woozy from the appearance of all this blood coming from my head. I wasn’t really scared; I was just confused.
Seconds later I heard my sister scream, yelling for help, for me. I had’nt notice where Aubrey or my grandma was or if they were okay. Then a crowd of people (soccer parents) surrounded me telling me what to do while trying to be calm. In a rampage of confusion, I was thrown down, adults surrounding me telling each other what to do. Out of the crowd came a lady, she had straight brown hair to her shoulders, and she was about in her thirties. I really didn’t think that I was hurt, but everyone else was just in chaos, as if my life was in danger. With this lady bandaging my head with a pair of my black soccer shorts, which I had just in case my sister needed them, I noticed my sister hovering over me, crying and very upset. I could also hear my grandma yelling and crying, “Jeremy! Is he okay?” that my grandma was okay and that I didn’t have to worry about her.
It was now that I started to get dizzy, laying on the pointy like needles of grass. I heard sirens in the distance knowing they were for me. I was just worried about my grandma and sister, but I was also scared. I didn’t have that comfort that only moms can give.
Minutes later the ambulance came with its red and blue lights flashing, making my head spin even more. The minutes I waited for the ambulance seemed like hours. The ambulance crew jumped out, two men and one woman rushed over with their first aid packs and a gurney fully prepared to hold me. The crowd dispersed for the three crew members. Seconds later I was strapped onto the very uncomfortable gurney, and placed in the ambulance. My sister followed into the ambulance. I guess she did it to comfort me. The ride to the hospital wasn’t bad, I thought it was pretty cool. How many times do you get to ride in an ambulance? But the end of the ride just made me even dizzier, I really don’t know what happened, but I just know we went in circles and more circles.
Rushed out of the ambulance, they placed me into an emergency room. It was just like all the emergency rooms you see on TV, all white around, with those dim lights shining, and tools and machines you only see in the hospital. I was unrestrained and seconds later a man I knew, my old basketball coach Mr. Fait, came in and in his surprised face saw me. He asked a couple of questions and started telling jokes to calm me down as he started to describe what he was going to do to clean and stitch my head up. My mom walked in and all my grief was gone. Now all that mattered was the shots I had to take for the cut. I would guess an hour went by while the doctor fixed my deep wound. My sister was being examined and had a few X-rays. She was complaining that her neck hurt, but it came out to be nothing.
A couple of days went by and I had to get back to my life. I didn’t sleep very well and couldn’t take a shower, only a bath. This cut on my head was angering me; it is a good thing that I only had to live with it for two weeks. Another thing that it affected was my view on being in cars. I always made sure I had my seat belt on and I was always paranoid about driving somewhere, because when I got into the crash I didn’t have it on. I guess I had a fear and it would stay with me for awhile. My grandma was so upset about the crash, she never stopped apologizing. My brother would always tease me; this added something new on the list to mock me with. The bad thing about this was all my family teased me everytime we went somewhere. They had to make a remark about me being scared. I hated this and I wished it would just go away.
My brother got his driver’s license. This meant he would be taking me everywhere I wanted to go. That is what my parents said. This only made my fear worse, and it made me think: in a couple of years I’m going to be able to drive. Right then I decided I would be too scared to drive, I wouldn’t want to. How wrong I was. It’s my sixteenth birthday and I would be getting my license soon. I already had my own car. Soon I would be driving, something I had been so scared of and now I love to drive. When I get in my car now I don’t even have a worry, driving is my hobby. I would have never guessed this would be my feeling towards driving. As a child I distressed and feared driving, but as a teenager all the worries and fear are gone.
paper on life story