Personal Narrative-Lake Winnisquam

“Hop in the car,” my dad said. His outstretched arms guiding my eyes to the open doors. Our 2009 Honda Odyssey was a beige colored behemoth. Comically overstuffed with passengers and cargo, the sporadic rumbling of the V6 engine was disconcerting as we hit the road. “Will we even reach Meredith at all,” I wonder. The drive up to Lake Winnisquam is exciting and uneventful as usual. Through smudged windows, I watch the passing scenery, anticipating all the fun we will have this fourth of July. The switch onto Lower Waldron road was a recognizable turn and a sign of our proximity. We each scoot towards the edge our seats, heads pressed against the glass, eager to be the first to spot our destination. “I see the house,” my sister squeals with excitement.

I check my phone, aghast to see that it is already nine. I wolf down a thickly buttered bagel and in no time we are on the water. Uncle Vinney is the captain of the boat and an avid fisherman. “Look at the size of this one,” is his classic line as he opens his phone and slides though the pictures of recent fish that he’s caught. “Ka-plunk”. We drop the anchor, stopping the boat in shallow sandy area where we can spend the afternoon. With little hesitation we are in the water. Splashing fights are immediate, but soon we start an organized game of tag while the grownups relax and prepare lunch aboard the boat. Sandwiches in the cooler, our parents make their way into the water too. Aunty’s scream scares me. I can’t see her, but I can tell that she’s on the far side of the boat. Uncle Vinney and my father come to the same conclusion and rush to her side. What was once a relaxing afternoon on the water is juxtaposed with frantic commotion as Chris is hauled aboard the boat. “Mom, it’s not good,” I hear Chris say. “I can’t feel anything”. Someone calls an ambulance which meets us when we make it to shore. Chris is lifted onto a stretcher by the EMTs who rush him into the ambulance. Uncle Vinney and Aunt Kathy join him. Their faces stricken with grief as the doors slam shut. As the ambulance pulls away my mind continues to spin. “What just happened?” I wonder as I sit down on a white lawn chair on the

He has shown me the value of good humor in grave situations and how to persevere even when your goals seem impossible. He has taught me when to carry the weight of my own burdens and when it’s time to ask for help. However, even more than Chris’ noble response, the tragic accident itself has changed my perspective. In many ways, I aged more that day on the lake, than I had in the previous year. For most of my family, watching a loved one suffer through a tragic injury has made them more nervous and conscientious about our welfare. I view Chris’ tragedy as what it was, an accident. A devastating disaster, but still an accident. I don’t let Chris’ misfortune become a reason for me to hide from the world. Instead, this disaster has become an incentive for me to enjoy every moment that life brings. It’s inspiration to accomplish my goals and to take risks because the truth is; accidents happen. The truth is, there is much in this world that we cannot that control. We cannot predict whether the driver around the corner is intoxicated and drifting into your lane, just as we couldn’t predict that Chris would injure himself falling into shallow water. So rather then spend my time trying to anticipate the countless misfortunes that may befall me, I plan to use my energy on things I can control. I plan live to the fullest in this fragile reality. I will enjoy the moment, use my humor to lightened grim situations and