Unexpected heroes

My name is Kaitlyn and I am 11 years old. On September 11th of 2003, at about 10:30 pm, I was downstairs in my room watching my favorite show. The Simpsons. My mom was talking on the phone with someone but I couldn't figure out who. A few minutes later, my mom called me to come upstairs. I was thinking that she wanted to know what I wanted for dinner. I managed to drag myself upstairs. She didn't have that usual happy look on her face. "I need to tell you something." That's when it hit me. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

She could hardly get the words out of her mouth. "Your dad was out riding his motorcycle earlier today... He's in the hospital and he might not make it." I was confused. I suddenly fell on my knees and began crying. I thought my dad was dead. I cried for about an hour and a half before I could even say anything.

I was in a crafting mood and so I made him some flowers out of tissue paper and pipe cleaners. I went to sleep on the couch. The next day my mom called my school and said that I wouldn't be there. I grabbed my favorite stuffed animal and the flowers. My mom drove me to the hospital and we stood at the front desk. My mom muttered something to the receptionist. "He is in room 305. It's on the 3rd floor." I walked into the elevator and pushed the 3.

We went up on the 3rd floor and found the neurological trauma room. I walked in and saw my dad's name on the chalkboard. We saw the numbers 305 on the door and walked in. I saw my dad. He was unconsious and covered with tubes. I looked at him and began crying. The nurse walked me out of the room and gave me a glass of water.

A few minutes later I went back in the room. I handed my dad the flowers and my little stuffed cat. I hugged him and me and my mom went into the cafeteria. I was still crying like a madwoman.


A Few Months Later:


My dad got out of the hospital and was doing better. My mom made a call to find out about getting some chickens. We then got in the car and drove to Intermountain farmers. We got a box of noisy little chickens. We named them Dodge, Ram, Duelie, Broiler, Roaster and Broth. We watched them grow and each day I felt more connected to them. These chickens are the only thing that kept me from breaking inside.

The End

In memory of Duelie, Roaster and Broth.