Weeping Willow

Chapter Seven.

Melissa (Chaucer's mom) POV.

Tonight is the night. My baby is finally showing the world how talented she is and I couldn't stop bragging about it if I wanted to. I have always known there was something shining inside of her, something bright and boiling, just waiting to break the surface.

As young parents, we were terrified that our ages would affect our parenting and ultimately cause us to fail. We didn't have any money when we found out we were pregnant. We even bought our test from a dollar store. That's one bit of information that we keep to ourselves. We do however, make it known to our daughter that we worked hard at being the best parents we could be.

Dale and I, we never wanted to conform to what society wanted us to be as young parents. We refused to let our straight-laced parents raise our children for us. We didn't have much, but we had enough that made us sure we would raise a sensible, creative child. We did everything we could to stay true to ourselves and not put too much pressure to be the kind of parents everyone tries to tell you to be.

We did a better job than either of us expected and we have Chaucer, who is not only kind, but she's also a creator. We are so, so proud of that. I've always been the wild one, the unpredictable crazy woman who can turn anything into art. Now, in my mid-thirties, I'm happy to say that I've held onto that chaotic part of myself. I can't wait to see the woman our daughter becomes. I rub my hand over my belly, wishing that this new baby takes after it's older sister.

Dale pulls our Prius into Crane's driveway just as she comes bopping down the driveway. Crane has the longest legs, she's a skyscraper and she's my daughter's best friend. She's a good kid, I'm happy Chaucer has her.

"Sorry! Sorry!" She shouts as she climbs into the backseat. Her knees hit the back of my seat and I adjust it to her height. "My sister kept puking, it was everywhere, just pouring out and-"

Dale raises and hand and teases her, "Okay, we get it." He laughs.

During the drive, we make it a point to ask Crane about her day, about how she's feeling. We know that she doesn't get the attention at home that she should, and we try to make up for it as much as much as we can.

While Crane and Dale are discussing why Crane's sister doesn't take well to the nanny, I check my phone. I've been posting on my Facebook page about Chaucer's performance tonight. I usually only post pictures of my creations, some jewelry, or pictures of Dale from really bad angles on my page, but this one means more. My post has gotten quite the response already. Support from friends and family is pouring in and I can't wait to show Chaucer tonight after the show. She's so loved and my heart is light and happy as we drive down the highway.

The traffic is backed up as we get closer to the city. I expected this on a Friday night. The flashing lights of an ambulance and a row of police cars line the side of the street. Dale points to a cloud of smoke on the bank of the road. There's a massive Willow tree there, behind the ambulance and crowd of people. My heart aches for the victim and I hope the wreck isn't as bad as it looks. Chaucer has always loved that tree since she was a kid, I'm glad she isn't seeing the disaster in front of it.

Dale taps his fingers on the steering wheel, "It looks bad, I hope we make it downtown soon," he says.

"Is that?" Crane's voice slices through the air and something inside of my stomach twists. My eyes are much quicker than my mind. Vision outweighs sensibility as I take in the scene. The police officers, the medics, the roaring ambulance.

My mind is a thick fog as I take in the car, smashed into the front of the massive Willow tree. The fragmented car is familiar. I can remember the day we bought it. We drove it home and Chaucer begged Dale to let her drive it to Crane's house. I'm completely lost now, spinning slowly through white mist, trying to make sense of what my eyes are convincing my mind of.

Crane's screams tear me from my confusion.

This isn't real.

This isn't happening.

This doesn't happen to people like us, it can't.

Not to us, not right now.

Author's Note:

Hey guys. I know you're probably feeling a little surprised, a little angry, and hopefully you can feel the pain that these characters are going through. If you're upset, you're supposed to be. I fell in love with writing this story and with Chaucer, but this is exactly what can happen in real life if you make the same choice that she did. So many of us are used to having our phones in our hand at all times, myself included. I often catch myself wanting to check my phone at stop lights, literally any time I can, but distracted driving can literally end your life. I'm sorry for hurting you and Chaucer, but I hope you remember this feeling if you ever find yourself even considering to glance at your phone while behind the wheel. Love you guys, even when you want to scream at me :)

Disclosure:

I worked with AT&T on their "It can Wait" campaign. This campaign is so important and I'm honored to share this story with you. It happened to Chaucer, it can happen to you. No glance is worth a life.