I’d run after anything thrown at me when I was a kid
in the school yard, on a grassy lot, I wanted to be a star.
I wanted to be a hero just like the supermen I admired
in sports, who performed in the arenas and stadiums before large crowds.
So I ran, I ran like a speedy animal with little legs, not aware of the steel beam
that stood between me, the mini-football and glory.
I turned my head, reached up and at a very crucial moment, the forces of nature, where skull met solid steel
created a metallic thump that sounded like the school bell that signaled recess was over.
I could have been dead at nine. I could have been asleep forever, lying lifeless on the asphalt schoolyard, as the body bag zippered over my sad, scrawny torso.
But my maker, the creator, the universe in general, decided to spare me, to give me a second chance,
like a miracle I opened my eyes. I could see, fuzzy at first, but soon with more clarity.
I could feel the welt over my right eye expanding, growing out of control, but I didn’t care.
With my left eye, the world looked even better than the one before.
It was cleaner, more vivid, pure and simple,
the sky and everything underneath it looked about as good as candy in a candy store.
I remember seeing all my friends, all their youthful concern, their dirty fingers and new Converse sneakers
and I realized that I was alive. I was concussed but the concussion transported me to a brand new dimension, a brand new life.
My wounds would heal, my headaches would stop. I was grateful for the steel beam that shook me up and rattled my soul.
For more on hard objects hitting skulls, read my latest story on eFiction, Dark Clouds Over Baseball.