There are moments when time just stops. For a brief instant your senses are heightened and you come to realize that your surroundings are much more vivid than you could ever imagine. One of those times is when someone you are very close to is moments away from death even though hours ago they were in perfect health.
             After a fun filled evening of playing pool with some friends in an atmosphere as light as a feather in the summer breeze, I decided to go home and rest. Just as I lay my head down upon my pillow made of clouds and sweet reverences, the telephone rings with such harshness that it was like glass breaking and piercing my soul all while making my spine shake. My mother, knowing that I had gone to bed for the evening answered the phone and let out a shrill that burst out like a single gunshot from a twelve gauge shotgun. The next few moments went by so quickly that the clocks of the world must have been spinning uncontrollably to accommodate for the time that I was about to lose. On the other end of the phone was my hysterical step mother, who resembles the step mother from Cinderella, informing my mother that my father had just got into an accident less than a mile from his home and was being medi-flighted by helicopter to Boston.
             At that time logic was not something that was readily available to me, for I flew out of my house like batman would to a scene of a crime straight to my new car. This car, smelling a scent only a new car could, was a shiny champagne colored, standard transmission, 2001 Nissan Sentra with the Sports Edition package that included all the extras and a mere 500 miles was suddenly, as if hitting warp speed at points, was going 120 miles an hour down route 24 heading north towards Boston. I was weaving in and out of traffic as if I was a crochet needle rapidly making a quilt for a newborn baby left out in the bitter cold. I made it to Boston in a record of fifteen minutes that night just to ...