When the phone rings at 3:00 a.m. you know it's not going to be good. We peed, dressed at lightning speed and sped to the emergency room. I was greeted by my son's dad and his wife, and also my son's new bride. A headline blurb was all I needed from any of them. I had to get to my son. I darted down the hall past an open door where a young man my son's age lay on an exam table with a butcher knife plunged into his bare chest, the eight inch handle exposed.
I recoiled, grabbed my own chest and ran to my son who had serious internal injuries from a motorcycle accident he'd had as he was coming home from his night shift. He wiped out thirty feet of highway fencing. He looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, "Mom, Rose came to me as I lay on the side of the road before the ambulance arrived. She said I was going to be okay."
My late friend, Rose, who had recently passed away, had been our next door neighbor. She'd been like another mother to my son. The doctor said his very expensive helmet prevented him from having brain injury. My son made a full recovery, but I wonder about that boy with the butcher knife. I am convinced that my late friend cradled my son's head as he lay on the pavement.
What I just wrote is true. It is intense reading. I took the reader right along with me on that journey. If I were writing a book, this would be okay, but when you write a personal essay you have to tighten your focus. I wrote specifically about my son's accident and his "experience" for a religious anthology and the story was selected and published.
Writers, keep in mind that you have to write for your reader and target your market. There are several stories embedded within my story. I could write about ER cases, motorcycle helmets, heavenly signs or dumb kids who return to motorcycle riding and worry the heck out of their mothers.
One more thing, blog readers, did I provide you with enough information, or did I leave you hanging by asssuming that my one reference (his new bride) would be enough of a hint to allow my followers to know this happened almost fifteen years ago? Consider that some of your readers do not know your circumstances or family, so again, you must write to inform your reader.
I hope you don't think I'm lecturing or preaching to the choir. Thanks for reading. I am waiting for my 200th follower.