Peace for Harmony

by Lily

My name is Harmony. I've always been taught that peace means no war. But I've discovered that peace can mean something different. Here's my story.

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   One day, I was just walking home from school. It had been a good day, and I couldn't wait to show Mom and Dad my awesome all-A report card. 

   And then the crash happened. It happened so fast, I barely saw it. But I did. A small blue van-- my Grandma's-- drove by. It stopped at a stop sign, and I kept on walking. She was surely going to get groceries at the supermarket on 3rd Street, right? Right?

   Of course not. If that was it I wouldn't be telling you. Anyway, she stuck her head out the window and called to me, "Hey, Har. I'm just taking our dog Biscuit to the vet, wanna hop in?"

   I was about to respond when a red SUV came running at my grandmother's car at the speed of a highway speed limit, and the next thing I know, everything's black. 

   At the hospital, when I woke, the first thing I noticed was my throbbing head. Then I forgot all about it when Dad told me that Grandma died. Apparently, so did the other driver. He said I was lucky to only have a cut and a broken arm. 

   I was let out of the hospital the next day. But it wasn't the same. I had my leg bandaged from where glass cut it and my arm slung up in a cast. Stares burned into me at school, where I wanted to cry from all the silence. I also wanted to cry for Grandma. It was hard to accept that she wasn't here anymore. I'd just tell myself that she's still alive, just on vacation, every day. And she's alive in my dreams. It's that moment in between sleeping and waking up that's the most painful, where the truth hits me in my heart every time. She's gone.

   At least I still had my friend Colette. She'd sit by me and list everything good every day at lunch. I'm so glad she's at my side.

   At home, I still had all my chores to do. Of course Mom made sure I could do them and cut out the ones I couldn't do, but they were harder and more tiring with only one hand to work with. They stressed me out every day.

   Oh, and I also was getting so many calls from people associated with the job I signed up for. At least five. Every. Single. Day. 

   So that was the first month after the crash. 

   The second month eased some things up. Grandma's death became less of a shock. And my classmates at school stopped staring and talked to me again, like I didn't have a black cast on my temporarily useless arm.

   But some things also got worse. Like my parents' relationship. Things were already getting tense, and then Grandma's death made it worse, Dad blaming Mom for getting his mother a dog to take care of. More arguements every day, and more hurt feelings. Soon they were so distant that I wasn't even allowed to talk about one of them to the other. I was so scared that they would divorce. I had extra chores too, because Mom started to not do some of them as a protest to Dad. 

   It wasn't until the cast came off that Mom left the house, though. At least I had both hands to do some work, even if one of them was still weak. 

   I remember begging to Dad to stay with Mom. But he'd never listen. I visited Mom in her hotel sometimes too. She'd listen, but never act. Life was horrible. Unsteady. Tense. Stressful. 

   And then one day I found Biscuit.

   She was wandering around the park. I was going on a relief run, and I saw her swimming in the pond. 

   At first I thought that it couldn't be her. Then I remembered how much she liked to swim. But she died in the car crash, didn't she?

   Apparently she didn't. I don't know how. But she's here. So I took her home. And showed her to Mom and Dad. I thought that maybe Dad would kill her for being the reason Grandma was driving, but he just softened. And so did Mom.

   And that brings us to today.

   So, things right now aren't exactly the way it was before, but it's better. I have to owe it to Biscuit for making things a little more peaceful around here for me.