I felt the roughness

in my father’s grasp.

As he latched tightly onto my left arm,

the sound of tires screeching and my

Dad yelling “Hold on!” competed

against each other.

The next thing I knew,

I was jolted back into my seat,

and my eyes were locked.

Like being frozen in time.

The spin out of the tires screeching

and radio gradually going out only lasted for

what seemed like not even a full second.

I witnessed us getting closer and closer to

the ocean-deep ditch,    

accepted what was to come,

and tightly shut my eyes until

it was all over.

The aged truck was now fully rolling

upside down and upward.

Over, and over again.

The shattering of glass ringed in my ears,

getting louder and louder the harder we

landed.

The rolling had come to a halt,

and I was still sitting upright.

Rejoicing in the fact that

we weren’t stuck upside down,

I instantly opened my eyes.

The windshield was shattered.

My little brother’s backpack had flown

out the back window.

And as I looked down,

my thighs were blanketed with glass.

My father’s hand still latched onto me,

“Are you okay?” escaped his busted lips.

All I could do was nod immediately,

as I started to feel an immense knot forming

inside my throat.

But I held it in.

Instead, my body began to shed its own

tears.

Except it was aftershock trembling of,

what felt like, a reviving corpse.