Jennifer Bowers
Stories (2/0)
The Key
Life has a way of throwing many curve balls. No one knows this better than I. Fifteen years ago, both my parents' life was swiftly and tragically snuffed out, leaving me the “text book” orphan at the tender age of three. I don’t remember much of them...only faint echoes of my mother's contagious laughter and my father’s hypnotic singing voice that would lull me to sleep. Mom was in the final stages of expecting the little brother I never knew. While in their haste to hurry to the hospital to deliver him, their truck was hit by a drunk driver, killing all involved. People all over town said this was the day that turned my beautiful Nan’s hair completely white from the excruciating shock and sadness she had endured that day. She said she kept it that way as a morose reminder of how frail and precious life always was. I was lucky to be left to the mercy of my beautiful Nan and her free spirit kid brother, Uncle Moe. If it truly wasn’t for these two, I surely would have had a cursed life. Uncle Moe was near my father’s age when he was forced to taking on the role of “Dad” to me, and was around for most of the important life stages - like teaching me to ride a bike (much to my Nan’s chagrin) and how to climb the old oak tree like a chimp in order to reach our ponds swing rope where I ultimately learned to master the biggest splash that could be heard from miles away. That's where my bravery ended, and stagnated once I set foot off our property line. As I got older, he started taking off on occasion to travel and dirt dig, not surprising...as it was always in our blood line. My family’s ancestry was filled with all sorts of professions involving numerous great adventures... archaeologists(like Uncle Moe), engineers, and many high-ranking brave military career members. Nonetheless, I was destined and most reluctant to follow in their foot steps.
By Jennifer Bowers3 years ago in Humans
The Key
Life has a way of throwing many curve balls. No one knows this better than I. Fifteen years ago, both my parents' life was swiftly and tragically snuffed out, leaving me the “text book” orphan at the tender age of three. I don’t remember much of them...only faint echoes of my mother's contagious laughter and my father’s hypnotic singing voice that would lull me to sleep. Mom was in the final stages of expecting the little brother I never knew. While in their haste to hurry to the hospital to deliver him, their truck was hit by a drunk driver, killing all involved. People all over town said this was the day that turned my beautiful Nan’s hair completely white from the excruciating shock and sadness she had endured that day. She said she kept it that way as a morose reminder of how frail and precious life always was. I was lucky to be left to the mercy of my beautiful Nan and her free spirit kid brother, Uncle Moe. If it truly wasn’t for these two, I surely would have had a cursed life. Uncle Moe was near my father’s age when he was forced to taking on the role of “Dad” to me, and was around for most of the important life stages - like teaching me to ride a bike (much to my Nan’s chagrin) and how to climb the old oak tree like a chimp in order to reach our ponds swing rope where I ultimately learned to master the biggest splash that could be heard from miles away. That's where my bravery ended, and stagnated once I set foot off our property line. As I got older, he started taking off on occasion to travel and dirt dig, not surprising...as it was always in our blood line. My family’s ancestry was filled with all sorts of professions involving numerous great adventures... archaeologists(like Uncle Moe), engineers, and many high-ranking brave military career members. Nonetheless, I was destined and most reluctant to follow in their foot steps.
By Jennifer Bowers3 years ago in Families