So I came to visit my parents for the weekend. My mom found my old iPod. Said she plugged it in and it worked. Won't hold a charge, doesn't light up anymore, have to press every button repeatedly to make it go, but still works when plugged in. I said I was pretty sure that was the one I had in the accident. I checked the case and sure enough, hospital tape with my name penned in.
Turned it on. All my old music was there intact!!!!
So I guess we both survived that day. Everything they took out of my car got put in one of those rubbermaid storage containers in the depths of my dads garage. The important things like my phone, purse, wallet my dad brought to me in the hospital. The rest he put in that box and waited for me to come home.
Its a little crazy to sit in my parents house and listen to these old playlists. Whenever I see any evidence of that summer before the accident.... like social media posts, pictures, songs..... it makes me feel so sad for the girl I was before. A rebel. Naive. Unhappy. Ungreatful. Running on empty at a thousand miles a minute.
Then I grew up. Fast. As fast as I was ejected from that vehicle. Two months, a helicopter ride, a surgery on my broken pelvis and a halo on my broken neck later.... I was finally home.
When I have a bad day now.... I feel bad for forgetting how far I came. Just remember, life is good. As shit as it gets... life is good. I am here, you are here, and I'm thankful.
