The very first time I met my guardian angel was confusing. I was 16 and newly driving. As I left my high school parking lot, I turned right onto the main road. A lot of traffic leaving school was normal and would take about 15 minutes to clear up. I knew there was a shortcut, a left turn with a long light. I pulled my steering wheel to the left and hit the gas.
I looked over my left shoulder as I merged. I saw him in an instant. Rushing up to me from behind, in an inhuman sprint. He’s tall and lanky, but muscular. Very muscular. Almost like he has no skin covering his dark grey muscles. My pupils dilated an my breath let out. He slammed into my car door, glass crashing around me and at least one airbag deploying. My throat grew hot and my chest heaved one last heavy breath. I was choking on blood, unable to draw enough oxygen to stay awake. I made my peace with the world and drifted into nothing.
I woke up that morning remembering immense pain. Everything I felt seconds prior was still sharp in my mind. Did I dream of crashing my car? What about the muscular guy that smashed my car and tore me open? A few minutes in bed decided that it was a dream. A horrible, realistic dream that shook my core. But I had to get ready for school. I make my bed, shower, eat breakfast. Time to leave. I walk out to the car, expecting a damaged hunk of steel and fiberglass. Instead I find my car, with the same small scratches she’s always had from my poor parking skills. I drive to school, passing the intersection I remember my throat slicing open just hours before.
My first class, I open my notebook and begin the daily reading. Same topic as the day before, but that’s high school. Same thing every day. Nothing changes. But today felt more of the same than usual. I passed it off as remnants of my bad dream. It was traumatic and I still hadn’t shook the memories of pain. I get through my classes quietly, waiting to get home and unwind. The last bell rings, and I hurriedly walk out to my car. I turn right, into predictable traffic. This time instead of taking the shortcut, I decide to wait it out. I’m approaching the spot where I remember dying. Of my last breath leaving my lungs. Blood on the dashboard and glass stinging my eyes. I heave a big sigh and check my mirrors. The car behind me, a lifted older Jeep that probably should have been condemned years ago, puts on their blinker and pulls up to the left turn lane. I recognize the driver as a classmate of mine. I don’t know his name, but it’s a big school. His Jeep passes me slowly, then a horn blares and a tow truck comes sailing in from behind. It smashes into his Jeep, sending him straight into the intersection ahead. The two metal masses migrate ahead. The heavier tow truck plows on into an embankment just past the curb, trapping the Jeep and it’s occupant under the grill. I didn’t see any more than that. I didn’t want to. The community police officers were on scene quickly, putting up dividing screens and laying down tarps.
I learned later that day my school mate died. We were all distraught, but I couldn’t stop wondering. What happened the day before? I was in the same place, at the same time. Except I woke up the next day. That was my first encounter with my guardian angel.