At first, I had felt shock.  Then it was serious anxiety.  I was still having a hard time believing it had happened at all, but I was living proof.

For as long as I could remember, I had wanted to be a professional photographer.  It would have combined my hobby and my dreams into one great career.  Now, that would never be possible.  My dreams were dashed and I was left feeling a bitter emptiness with many questions cycling through my head.  What would I do for a living now?  So many movies portrayed a person with my disability just living off kindly relatives.  My parents kept reminding me that I had my whole life ahead of me.  True, but would I spend the whole time reminding myself of the bitter truth I was facing now?

In a way, the whole problem started a year before.  Back then, I had had light in my green eyes.  The darkness hadn't yet invaded my world.  Those cheerful times leave a sour taste in my mouth now.  I had a great seventeenth birthday party.  It was held at my house, and the little green and white rancher had been decorated with coloured streamers.  My cake was gorgeous, decorated with green vines and red roses on a white background.  It was the start of autumn then, and I always did like October with its golden leaves adorning the trees.  Surrounded by caring friends and family, I had enjoyed myself thoroughly and had had a sleepover that night.  How COULD I have known what was coming?  There was no way. 

The next morning my friend, Alison, and I had a major fight.  I forget what it was even about now.  It's painful just thinking about it, especially when I need Ali's support so much right now. After the fight with my best friend, I turned to my other friends.  Julie and Cindy were welcoming enough, after all.

Three months passed and my fight with Alison still hadn't healed over.  Julie had told me her opinion on the situation. "Melanie, this is pretty bad.  You really need to lighten up.  Look.  There's going to be a party on Fifth Avenue hosted by some of the kids at school.  Why don't you come?  It'll be fun.  Cindy's coming too." 

My fingers had restlessly run through my dark brown hair.  I had resented her tone at the time, but I went anyway.  I didn't know that choice would have such an effect on my life.  However, I HAD been moping around too much at the time.

It was a big party, set in one of the largest, grandest houses on the street.  Julie and Cindy had both wanted to stay late.  They wanted to dance the night away.  I had tried to talk them out of the idea, saying that they would be too tired to enjoy the next day and that was important too.  Cindy's words to me were frustrating.  "Mel, can you quit being such a worrywart?  We can sleep in tomorrow and we'll be fine!  It's Friday night.  We have nothing planned for tomorrow, so we can just sleep in." 

What had been foremost in my mind at the time was the safety of my friends.  I think that's what bugged me about what Cindy said.  I was concerned about them, and all they wanted was for me to stop bothering them.  In fact, it troubled me all night.  I stayed sitting during most of the dances after that, while they danced every one.  The party ended around three o'clock, and I saw them yawning over and over.  Julie began to walk home, and Cindy staggered for her car with keys in hand.  I went over and took them from her, offering to drive her home and return her car in the morning.  It looked like she had downed a couple of drinks. 

We were driving along uneventfully, with Cindy babbling about the different things that had happened to her that night and what fun she'd had.  I was just listening quietly, interjecting a 'yes' or 'no' wherever it was appropriate.  It was a fairly peaceful night, except for the gentle swish of snow blowing around the car.  Whenever Cindy looked my way while she was talking, it was apparent to me she was drunk.  I smelled alcohol on her breath. 

We were halfway to her house when it happened.  The patch of black ice was treacherous.  The car hit it and went into a skid.  I tried to use the emergency driving techniques I had learned before taking my driving test.  However, Cindy was too drunk to think straight and grabbed the wheel from me.  We swerved so fast, too fast for me to even gasp with surprise...I blacked out as soon as we thudded to a stop in the ditch.

When I woke up, the first thing I sensed was strong disinfectant and a slight smell of ammonia.  It ripped through my nostrils viciously. I could hear the sounds of beeping and rolling wheels, presumably from machines going by.  I guessed that it was the hospital and tried to see what my room looked like.  All I could see was the darkness surrounding me.  As I mentioned earlier, I felt shock and panic shoot through my veins.  After trying to calm myself, I eased back down on the hard mattress, shaking like a leaf.  I was blind.  There was a scream.

A nurse ran into the room.  It wasn't until she asked me what was wrong that I realized that scream had been mine.  The nurse explained to me that my lack of sight was a result of the windshield shattering.  I remember thinking that it must have been pretty serious for that to happen.  The nurse also told me there had been a flaw in the airbag, and it hadn't opened to protect my face.  I remember mumbling with characteristic pessimism, "Of course.  It had to be MY airbag, out of millions."  Groan. 

The nurse had heard me and scolded me. "Miss Leland.  This could've happened to anyone and I'm sure you know that.  It was pure chance that it was you."

"Yeah well, that doesn't help me right now!  I'm blind and I'm only seventeen!  Why did it have to be me?  I was doing a good deed by driving my friend home so she wouldn't hurt herself!"

"That is great.  You should keep doing good things for your friends.  This was pure chance.  Sometimes it's strange how these things happen.  You know, my cousin..."  The nurse continued speaking, but I tuned her out.  I was absolutely miserable.  Then the nurse said something like 'funny how these things happen sometimes.'  I just cracked.  "Yeah.  I know.  Really funny.  Hilarious actually.  First, my best friend deserts me.  I go to a party and discover my other friends see me as an annoyance.  I drive my friend home as a good deed and crash.  Now I'm blind.  Can you guess how old I am?  Fifty?  Forty?  Thirty?  Twenty?  Nope.  Seventeen years old.  I'm just lucky I guess.  Really funny though.  I'm laughing so hard."  The tone was so sarcastic it hurt even me.  It was such a pessimistic voice, so unlike the cheery voice I'd had before my fight with Ali. 

The nurse was silent for a moment before she spoke again.  "I'm sorry for what happened.  I know it's not funny.  I was trying to cheer you up."

"Yeah well, give that up.  It's a hopeless cause with me.  How's Cindy?"

"Your friend won't have any lasting effects from the accident.  She has bad whiplash and abrasions on her hands and arms, but all effects will heal with minimal scarring.  She has some selective retrograde amnesia trouble though."

"Ever tried speaking regular English?  Never mind."  I had rolled my eyes before continuing.  "What else happened at the accident?"

"The glass flew into your face because you didn't have the protection of the airbag.  It blinded you." 

I broke down and sobbed.  The nurse left a short while after.  For a long time, I thought about what I would do.  I couldn't come up with a single idea.  I kept thinking thoughts of doom and gloom because I couldn't help being miserable.  Nobody would want to be friends with someone who couldn't run with them.  Heck!  If a friend asked me, 'Do these colours look good on me?' what would I say to them?  I had no clue.

Now, I'm at home and feeling a lot better.  My external wounds have all healed, all but my eyes.  Some wounds are still inside though.  My dad has set up a wicker chair on the porch.  It is spring now, and I feel the warmth of the afternoon breeze caressing my face.  I hear a phone ringing, and footsteps of someone going to pick it up.  A moment later, the footsteps come toward me.  My mum hands me the phone, and I speak cautiously into the receiver.  "Hello?" 

I hear Julie's voice on the other end. "Hi Mel.  I'm at Cindy's.  I can't put her on because she'd just refuse.  She doesn't want to see you again."  I groan before answering her. "Really?  How's she doing, Jules?"

"Fine, but she has a HUGE grudge against you."  I sigh heavily.  "I'm lonely.  Can you come over later or something?"

"That's the thing.  If I want to have Cindy as a friend, she says I can't be your friend anymore." 

I choke back a sob and a slight wave of nausea as I speak through the phone,  "Jules!  The accident wasn't my fault!  Doesn't anyone want to listen to my side?  What happened from my point of view?  Does Cindy even remember what happened?"

"She doesn't remember Mel.  She can't remember anything about the accident.  She just blames you is all.  Nothing will convince her otherwise.  She'd just say that you're lying."

"Don't YOU want to hear my side?"

"Cindy's motioning for me to get off the phone now, Mel.  Sorry.  'Bye."

"But...but...don't do this Jules...come on...don't-" 

I hear a click and the phone goes dead.  I sigh.  Julie's voice, so unfeeling all through the conversation had been emotional only when talking about choosing between her friends.  I numbly put the phone on the side table beside my chair and then put my head in my hands, crying silently.  My last friends are gone, and I have no-one to talk with.  I have no hobby to immerse myself in either. 

Something occurs to me then.  If Julie and Cindy drop me that fast, they're no friends.  How had I ever thought they liked me better for a friend than they liked each other?  Still, they were someone to talk to!  Now, I am alone.  Some wounds don't heal for a long time.  Not everything is external.  My anger has a hold on me now.  I feel fire in my chest.  Some friends!  They gave up without even trying to listen to me!  I thump the table beside me with my fist, and hear the phone bounce and clatter to the floor.  Oops.  My anger drains away as embarrassment floods through me. 

"Mum?  I dropped the phone."  I bend forward and try to pick it up, but she reaches it first and sighs softly before standing up and putting her gentle hand on the shoulder of my red t-shirt.

"It'll be okay, Mel.  You have your friends."

"No, Mum.  I don't.  Cindy doesn't want to be friends and she's pushed Julie into choosing between us.  Julie picked Cindy." 

My mum pats my shoulder.  I feel the sadness coming from her.  There is nothing she can do for me to lessen the pain though.  She walks back into the house and I just cry, salty tears streaming down my cheeks before dampening my blue jeans.

More days pass for me.  Spring turns to summer.  My eighteenth birthday passes in the dreariness.  We don't celebrate it.  What I feel is far from celebrating.  I have the regular conversations, like 'Good morning' or 'pass the salt'.  Nothing really interesting though.  Nothing I want to hear.  Outside, the sun is shining as usual my parents tell me.  So what?  I can't see it.  All of this because of a stupid patch of black ice.  Now my world, and not just that ice, is black.  However, I wouldn't have encountered that ice if I hadn't gone to the party.  If I had just stayed home, my eyes would be fine right now.  Scratch that.  If I hadn't needed to hang onto the last two friends I thought I had, I wouldn't be in this mess because I wouldn't have gone to the party! 

I groan in mental pain.  With nobody to talk to, my mind fills with a bizarre blame game going in circles.  I need a new hobby.  What can I do without my sight? I guess I can write.  Maybe I can write about what has happened to me. 

Then I have an idea.  Where is my iPod?  I'm not deaf.  I can listen to music.  It has been a long time since it had last been used.  Where IS it?  I rise from my chair slowly and stumble into my bedroom, thankful that it is on the first floor of the small house.  Stairs would be deadly!  Working my way to it is slow, and by the time I reach my destination, I have mentally gone over every hiding place in my bedroom and realize where my iPod is.  I go down on my hands and knees and feel around under my bed.  Aha!  There it is.  I draw it out triumphantly before fumbling with the ear buds and plugging them in.  Then I turn on the music and sit up before returning to a standing position.  I walk to the living room and collapse in the comfy recliner, listening.  There is a drawer in the side-table next to me, and I open it, fumbling around until I find paper and a pencil.  I write about what the songs make me feel.  

I do this every day for a week, and realize I'm happier now that I have something to do.  My dad even sets up a blog online for me.  My parents buy me my very own computer!  Now I sit and type out my thoughts.  I still miss my friends, but I am used to it now.  I have no idea what I'll do for a career, but my first priority is to be content with who I am now, not dwelling on who I was before.  I'm still me, but I'm blind and I have to adjust to that.

One day, I'm writing at the computer about a song, and I suddenly stop and look up, resting my head on the back of my chair.  I turn off my iPod and just stare towards the ceiling.  A mental picture rises in my mind.  I remember there are marbled swirls decorating the ceiling.  It is all very well to be happy, but don't I need a career to work at?  When I was in school, I was always being asked for life goals, and career choices.  Adults had asked me so many times what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Didn't those things indicate careers are important?  Suddenly, I realize something.  My parents are right.  I have my whole life ahead of me.  Why do I have to decide on my career path now?  My top priority should be to keep happy, not decide my life's journey.  There is no pressure to figure that out.  Like the dark swirls in the white ceiling, my path can go almost anywhere.  It will take twists and turns as I go, but that doesn't mean I should be discouraged.  I can decide later in life, or change paths in the middle.  It will just create a different swirl, a different pattern.     

Time passes, and the weather grows warmer.  Spring turns into summer.  I sit out in my wicker chair in the evening, soaking up the smells and sounds, the warm breezes flowing through my long dark hair.  Crickets chirp out their cheery little tunes, and I can smell the irises blooming.  I smile with the wonder of the world, even while I cannot see its beauty.  There are ways to be happy even without sight.  At first, it was hard.  Now though, I'm no longer gloomy and am optimistic about my future.  Suddenly I hear approaching footsteps, and it startles me.  I sit up straighter to listen to them for clues as to the identity of the person.  They aren't those of a heavy person, but they do seem to be dragging their feet.  The footsteps stop, and the visitor heaves a long sigh.  The vocal chords seem to be those of a girl.  I think she is going to speak and wait a few minutes. 

The words never come, so I speak instead.  "Who is it?  I know you're there.  I'm a blind eighteen year old, but I can still detect people."  My last sentence is slightly sarcastic and meant to be a sort of joke.  I could do that sometimes now.  I smile to try to alleviate the tension in the air. 

It must have worked because the next minute the girl speaks to me in a tense, sad tone.  "It's Alison.  I heard about what happened, Mel.  I'm so, so, so sorry!  You needed a friend and I wasn't there for you.  I should have—" 

I reach out and put a finger to her lips as I speak gently and quietly to her.  "Shhhh...what's done is done.  Let the healing begin, Ali."