flash by Angelique Houtkamp
Sitting down at the beach with the new boy the other day. Making out like we were in high school. Telling stories in between the molten, moving, consuming of each other. Good god he is delicious.
Funny how new lovers always end up discussing old scars and hurts. Part of exploring each other I suppose.
We both mentioned, more than once how lucky we felt to be where we were, with each other.
I am the luckiest person I know.
It sounds odd when stacked up against how many times I have almost died.
Starting with how I was born.
A few weeks early. Backwards. Mostly in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.
What is true for most mammals is true for humans too.
When your feet hit the air, it triggers the impulse and reflex to breathe.
So it’s bad to have your feet out unless your head is very quick to follow.
A nurse told my mom I almost died. Pretty insensitive thing to do to a brand new mom,
but I made it.
I went to swimming lessons when I was 4 or 5. I wandered to the deep end by accident and almost drowned.
4 years later, I almost drowned again trying to swim to a raft.
Age 18 I walked out onto the ice of Lake Huron on a foggy February night and came inches from falling off the edge…someone grabbed my coat and pulled me back.
Age 21 house fire while 9 months pregnant with my son, the landlord had not put batteries in the smoke detectors. I went back in for the cats (they all made it) and so did I.
At 24 I was running for a street car, crossing on a green, got hit by a big ass pickup truck making a right on a red. Rolled over the hood, hit the rear view mirror with my ribs. He then pinned my feet under the back tire. I got up and yelled at him for ruining my pantyhose…he took off.
At 28 I was held hostage and beaten severely by a boyfriend, twice. He has said, recently, that he will kill me if he ever sees me again. Restraining orders are just paper.
At 29 I was attacked by a mentally ill homeless man.
I have worked in 3 bars where guns were drawn and fired, twice I was in them at the time.
I have been scary stumbling blackout drunk and home alone, once almost breaking my head open on a bathtub.
At 34 I flipped 2 trucks, was almost impaled by a flying piece of lumber flying off the back of a transport truck. I have blown a tire going 120km/h in the fast lane on a busy highway, like shredded the fucking thing, rubber flying in my window hitting me in the face.
So am I lucky? I think so.
Or someone is looking out for me.
Making the lifeguard notice me, making the piece of lumber bounce at the last second, clearing traffic so I can get to the shoulder.
When I enumerate these things, I truly question everything, why am I still here?
What am I supposed to do that I haven’t done?
I think I know.
I am supposed to live, and be brave.
If that which does not kill you makes you stronger, I am fucking bulletproof.
