Reading #3

I really enjoyed going to listen to Nicole Cooley and Julia Kasdorf. I thought they both had really interesting topics for their poetry. I especially liked the poems about New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina. She told us the story of a restaurant that had to close after the hurricane and someone left a sticky note on it, saying what they loved about the restaurant. After that, more and more people left post-its saying that they hoped it would open again soon and their favorite memories from being there. She then took the quotes on those stickies and put them into a poem. This one was my favorite because I liked the story and meaning behind it. Being there and hearing her tell that made it have a bigger impact than if I had just read it on my own. I also thought they did a good job of picking a range of poems to read. Some were funny, like the post-it one, but others were sad, about the devastation the hurricane caused, and the lives it destroyed. I got to here different aspects of the hurricane and different aspect of the New Orleans culture. I thought their poetry was really fun to listen to, and it definitely made me interested in reading more of their work.

The Death of Jason

It’s been 3 months since the hit, and my progress isn’t what it should be. I’m been going to therapy four times a week for the past three months, and I still get headaches every day. I’ve learned the alphabet again, and can do simple math problems finally, but I’m a senior in high school. Addition and multiplication isn’t going to help my pass calculus. I was allowed to go back to school after a month of being out, except I can’t stay for a whole day without getting a piercing headache. I’m beginning to get frustrated.

Today is a big day in therapy for me. Today is the day I might get cleared to drive and operate heavy machinery again. I can’t even tell you how annoying and even embaressing it has been having my mom drive me everywhere. It’s crazy how much I miss the simple freedom of driving myself to school every morning. Just having that time in the car is what I miss. Today is the day.

I walk into the office, and take my usually seat next to the flat screen and flip it to college basketball. I grab for the ESPN Magazine on the coffee table next to me. After about 10 minutes Lucy, one of the nurses, calls me in. After being here what seems like almost every day for three months, I know everyone really well. Lucy is a single mom, that is putting herself through physical therapy school, in order to one day be a sports therapist. Her daughter’s name is Annie and she is in the fourth grade. I’ve spent many afternoons after school helping Annie color in her coloring book in the waiting room.

“Hey Jason! Come on in!” My therapist, Dan, is sitting in a rolling chair, the my overflowing chart in his hand.

“Hey Dan,” I say, sitting on the giant recliner.

“So, today is a big day for us. Let’s see if you pass my driver tests, shall we?” Dan stood up and started preforming some tests.

I walked out of the office to see my mom waiting in the car outside the door. I got in and looked up at her.

“So? Are you a liscensed driver again?” She asked, I think more excited than me. I held up my liscense that they had just given back along with the passing test results. “Thank God!” my mom screamed.

As soon as I got home I ran to grab my keys to go drive to Kyle’s house, just for the sake of driving somewhere. I had gotten three blocks and was loving it. I had missed this freedom so much. I had turned the radio on, but I hadn’t put it on too loud, to not risk a headache. Suddenly, I turned on a corner and the sun was glaring so brightly in my face, I could barely see. That’s when the piercing pain in my head began suddenly. I was driving down a somewhat busy road, but couldn’t even think, the pain was so extreme. I saw a light ahead. For some reason, I couldn’t tell if it was green or red. The pain was unbearable. I think it’s green/ I sped up to get through the light. Suddenly I was flipping, and the lights were swirling around me. The light had in fact not been green, it had been red, which I failed to see due to the excruciating pain I had been experiencing/ That was my last time ever driving. In fact that was my last time breathing as well.