Driving is always a painful time. It also just depends on who you’re with. It was a beautiful week during the summer of 2008 and my best friend and I were on our way up north to the infamous Petoskey state park. When I say best friend, I mean my grandpa, we’d been here a thousand times never getting tired of it.  Laughing with my grandpa telling stories like every ride up.

”I told you to put your seat-belt on please.” smiling at him as I pull it over my chest.

We arrive at Petoskey state park only to choose the same camping spot we have chosen year after year. Number 22, were all you had to do was make the short climb over the sand dunes and you were there, staring over Lake Michigan. That's exactly what I had done. Ran out of the car all the way to the top of the dunes to watch the horizon, hearing the wind whisper in my ear, as the rustle of our tent dissipates in the wind. “Thinking to myself, how on earth can I be so lucky to be here?”  Every year I’ve gotten to enjoy this special time with my grandpa.

Coming here every year had been amazing; weather was always great just as it was that day. “I love this place!” I screamed in my head. Something was just a little different this year. Standing up, turning around and realize I knew the kid, making his way up the sand dune at a steady pace. His name was Justin, dark black hair with glasses and a face that was taller and skinnier than most. To me I'd never liked him, but I want to play. We waved awkwardly not being the best of friends in school. Soon enough I looked at him.

“Uhhh… You wanna go get our bikes and ride around?” I asked wondering if he would speak.

We made our way to my grandpa to ask to go play with Justin just so he knew where I had gone. Riding our bikes down the paths on our way to the firewood stand. It was a big fenced in area with sticks and logs of all sizes just sitting around. Each piece all scattered in no particular order, just messy as it's always been.
The day just kept feeling more and more different. Justin and I had some imaginary baseball games where we would swing the bat and let it fly way into the trees and act like we just hit a walk off home run. I had hit a deep walk off, pretending to run the bases up to wood pile and jumped on a raggedy wood home plate as the crowd cheered, ”AHHHHHH AHHHHHH” as I’d dreamed of my whole life.

Now it was his turn, stepping into the box after a few practice swings. I fake the pitch as he loads up. Swinging as hard as he can, before he could realize, the woods stick slipped from his grasp slowly flying towards me. It seemed that life flashed before my eyes. Slowly watching the stick flying at me with no time to react, fate was destined to happen, as if this stick was my life as I had known it whipping through the wind, “WOOSH WOOSH”. The wooden stick rammed into my eye with such force you could hear it crack. Instantly all light that could pour into my pupils was gone, no shapes, no object, no colors. Everything had gone as black as night. Instantly I broke down in tears, stunned and not moving as I collapsed to the ground, thoughts flying through my head, "would I be blind, what will happen to me?”

I stood up reaching for my eye in shock as I realize blood was pouring from my face. Then it happened, I was not me in the moment where I grasped the kid by the shirt and threw him into the ground, wailing at his face fists clenched. Looking at him caused me hatred, caused anger to grow in me to where I couldn't stop, but that wasn't me," why am I hitting this kid, he didn't mean to do it." I realized that I had taken my anger out on him, having everything pour out into hurting someone who hadn't done anything on purpose. Stepping back from him as blood was dripping from my chin. I had to go; all I did was run, left my bike and sprinted to my grandpa who had just finished setting up the tent. The worst part of it all was watching him turn towards me, seeing his eyes open wide dropping the sleeping bag and staring. In this moment all I saw was an imaginary mirror, of me slowly turning into a monster. Watching the man that I looked up to, stare at me, having no power to fix what happened, knowing fate took what it had to take. Seeing him as I walked forward realizing, nothing would ever be the same.

My grandpa put me in the car and drove; it's funny when a professional race car driver is back in his car again but for a serious matter. Swerving in and out of cars going what seemed like the speed of light. Pulling into the hospital was when I felt off, adrenaline dying off as I started getting dizzy, things zooming out, trauma slowly making me want to sleep.

I turn to my grandpa," will I be blind?"
I guess hearing that from an 8 year old grandson can cause some serious emotions because he cried his heart out, "I promise you won't be, we will fix this and see what we can do," taking his word for it as he ran me into the hospital.

Seeing every nurse drop what they were doing, staring at me. Being run into a room was a blur, not comprehending what was going on, but no one could comprehend me. Seeing nothing but a bright light as I slipped into unconsciousness seeing again what seemed like my life slipping away. At least from what I'd remembered it to be

Waking up in the hospital, it must have been a dream, as I open my eyes, still nothing but now little outlines of things that I could see from my right eye, seeing figures move around the room, blinking hard as if it would magically bring my vision back. I realized what was done, is over. Looking around seeing no one but the nurse and her telling me everything will be just fine.

Although the way up north was so peaceful with my best friend but the way down was all in my mind. Looking at what I'd done. All on my mind blaming Justin, but I knew it was on me, hearing the lesson over and over from my mom," don't play with stick or you'll poke an eye out." Now seeing what she really meant, I saw now, I see that I didn't care, hearing her but not giving a s***. I didn't listen because I didn't care. Seeing that the choice I made would change me, no longer could I be a pilot of which I've dreamed of as a kid, no longer shoot a bow, or gun.

What had I done, wondering what would happen? Seeing my parents’ eyes as I walk through the door. The worst part was I had beat on the kid for my silly mistake, not listening to my mom’s caring voice in my head. With a patch taped over my eye constantly looking up at the ceiling, as the sun set over the horizon. The only thing to do was watch, knowing that every night I’d be sitting here looking up at the ceiling covering my eye. Nothing could change that I’d have to lay in my parents’ room sitting straight up, never going into a full sleep. Now I know to realize what happened before I react, to actually care about what I hear from anyone, especially always listening to my mom.