Liz opened the garage door, and her three-year-old twins, Timmy and Tyler, ran down the driveway towards the street. They ran circles around each other, tagging each other and laughing as they played.
"Boys, come back here. We need to get you buckled in your stroller."
The boys turned around at the end of the driveway, and raced back up the small-sloped driveway. As the boys neared her, they heard a loud roaring sound. They turned around, and watched a motorcycle turn the corner onto their street, and race up the street. Just behind the motorcycle, a SUV squealed around the corner, trying to catch up to the motorcycle. She shook her head and watched the motorcycle and SUV stop at the end of the block and a group of laughing teenage boys get out.
She closed her eyes for a moment, and drifted off, into her imaginary world. When she opened her eyes, she started pushing the stroller down the driveway. Thinking about the speeding motorcycle and SUV, she started playing her favorite mind game, "Worst Case Scenario." In this game, she imagined the absolute worst thing that could happen to her. If she could find a way to survive the worst case scenario in her imaginary world, where she was safe, she knew survival was possible despite what life threw at her.
Growing up in the house with Sir Father, she developed a sixth sense for knowing when problems were brewing. The feeling felt like a knot that was pulsing, being twisted and squeezed in the pit of her stomach. She trusted herself when she got this uneasy feeling, because in her life, every time she had this uneasy feeling in her stomach, she had been right - trouble was brewing - and she had that feeling this morning. She knew something was wrong.
Liz had returned from the daily ritual of taking her twin three-year-old boys, Timmy and Tyler for a walk and play at the park. When they got home, she undid the straps on the stroller and got the boys out, and started mentally writing her to do list for the day. She had a mountain of laundry to tackle, meals to plan for the week, groceries to buy, dry cleaning to pick up for Jack, vet appointments for their dogs, dinner to cook and she needed to bathe Timmy and Tyler. She thought about how happy it made her that her sons were so easygoing and good-natured. They played together well, rarely fought, and they were so good about going on errands.
As she folded the stroller and prepared to store it away until tomorrow's walk, Timmy and Tyler picked up the bucket of sidewalk chalk and started scribbling on the driveway. She turned her back to the boys for a moment to put the stroller away. When she turned around, she saw Tyler scribbling away, but didn't see Timmy.
"Timmy!" Liz called as she walked around the bright blue minivan, and then she saw Timmy, scribbling with chalk in the middle of the road. Timmy looked up at his mom and called "Momma!" At the same instant, she heard the car come roaring up the street. She screamed, "Timmy! Come here, now!" Timmy stood up and started to run towards his Mom, and she dashed towards Timmy, but neither one was fast enough. She heard the sudden squealing of the tires as the driver tried to stop the car, and she felt like she was running through molasses and could barely move her limbs. Her world became slow motion as she watched the action unfold as she tried to will her limbs to work.
With tears streaming down her cheeks, and her yelling, she watched the drawn-out scene of the car striking Timmy. She watched his body absorb the impact, and fly up into the air, and curved back towards the ground; his head bouncing off the asphalt. She looked back at the car, and watched the back end fishtail as the driver stopped. She noticed the smoke, and the tire marks on the road.
At once, her world snapped into place, and she seemed to reach Timmy in lightening speed. She saw his eyes were closed, and blood pooling around his head. As if from a great distance, she heard someone screaming, and registered in the back of her mind that she was hearing her own keening.
"Timmy! No! Timmy, wake up! Wake up for mommy, Timmy!"
YOU ARE READING
Her Own Wings
ChickLitLiz grew up in a house that looked picture perfect. A Mother, Father and younger sister. Looks are deceiving. Sir, her father, is an alcoholic and drug abuser. When he's sober, he's the greatest guy to be around. When drunk, he's someone to avoi...
