Christmas
had just begun to reveal itself in the green origami holly and red
paper Santas that shop owners were taping onto their store windows. I
grinned back at those chubby, chortling paper grandpas as my siblings
and I climbed into the car for a long-awaited Christmas shopping trip.
As Dad pulled out of the driveway, my mind was awhirl with thoughts of
what I planned to buy: the romantic perfume for Mom, the snazzy watch
for my older brother, the adorable doll for my little sister … and on my
list went. I was bursting with excitement and could hardly wait until
we’d reach the shopping mall. But we never did.
Halfway
there, we were involved in an accident. Although we were unhurt, the
young woman whose motorbike had smashed into the rear of our car had
sustained minor injuries and was hurried to a nearby hospital. Thoughts
of Christmas faded in the blur of phone calls, visits to the hospital
and police station, and paperwork that stretched from days into weeks as
my parents negotiated with the young woman and the insurance company.
Complications arose, and the legal work surrounding the accident dragged
on longer than anyone had expected. I groaned with agitation as I tore
the page off the calendar each day and wondered when we would finally be
able to put the incident behind us.
