Essay 3 Draft 1- Just another chapter

Essay 3 – Draft 1                                                                                             Marjorie Papa

“Just another chapter…”

            It makes sense that life can be compared to a book.  It can vary from individual to individual what kind of book: a memoir; a biography; perhaps some may even consider it a fairytale.  No matter what a person might consider “their book,” the structure or outline remains the same: each has a beginning, middle, and eventually an end.  And it is safe to say that within those sections are subsections, or chapters.  They illustrate the journey that makes a person who they were, are and hope to become before the end.

            It brings to mind a chapter from the book of “Stephanie’s Life.”  Her beginning is being the first born in our family of three children.  In the youngest of years, there are many chapters that are “written” that pave the way for the largest of all chapters…the middle.  Throughout this body of a person’s book, there are even more occurrences that shape us further towards the conclusion.  Since there numerous, notable stories that have unfolded and will continuously unfold, we can aim our focus on those with momentous impact.

            In this section, Stephanie was a young single mother.  She had a job with which she could sustain her small family, as well as the aid and support from her family.  There comes a time in almost every young woman’s book when the yearning for a partner to share life with becomes nearly tangible.  Stephanie was no exception to this.  It was around this time in her life that she was reunited with her first love.

            They quickly picked up where they left off practically a decade before:  fervent love.  Without hesitation, they were both sure of where it was meant to lead, which is marriage.  The winter passed and the spring was full of promise.  Even the torrential downpours of rain, which had soaked through every bit of land for basically three weeks straight, could not dampen the spirits of young love.

            Stephanie’s man was working endlessly to save up for the engagement ring that women all around covet.  She met him at his weekend job and waited for him to finish so they could spend the rest of their night together.  They played a few games of pool but did not want to share their time together with friends and acquaintances who were vying for their attention.  So they simply left.  She took the lead in her car, with him following closely behind, en route to his apartment for some privacy.

            Not far into their drive, Stephanie glanced in her rearview mirror, as she had already done several times.  She checked one more on the status of how her makeup was holding up, then back farther to search for his car.  She saw his car following in a different direction.  He was careening off of the highway, headed straight for a pine tree.

            She pulled over on the side, jumped out of her car, threw off her flip flops, and ran towards him, all while on the phone with a 911 operator.  He had hit the tree and the tires of his truck continued to spin.  She tried to get to him, even trying to summon the strength to pull his truck back in an upright position.  When the emergency team arrived, they took over the rescue attempt she had been making.  It was all to no avail...his heart had bled out immediately.  She was told that “he did not make it.”  They removed him from his vehicle and lay him on the side of the road.  In true love story fashion, Stephanie kissed him on his lips as a final goodbye. 

            She went through the motions of planning his funeral in a detached state so as to keep herself glued together.  She coped for months in the best way she could.  Most of the time, it is common for the “best” way to be the worst way.  But many people’s stories go that way.  That was the end of that section of her life.

            The chapter of her book that Steph is currently writing includes a third child on the way with her husband of four years.  Another girl.  If asked, she would not say that her story is a fairytale.  In fact, she’s not sure what style her “book of life” is.  She readily admits that it is a work in progress.  And when asked about this previously “written” section of her life, she says with assuredness: “It was just another chapter.”