Where We Fell

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Where We Fell Page 8

by Amber L. Johnson


  It’s an amazing thing, having a future. Knowing that tomorrow is going to come, and another tomorrow will show up after that, until there are no tomorrows left. I’ve been afforded a second chance in more than one respect. And that list I made? Maybe I’ve accomplished everything I originally set out to do.

  I run in the bitter morning cold, until I can’t feel my nose or fingertips anymore.

  I hold Hannah in my arms on her doorstep.

  And without doing it on purpose, I’ve done something nice for my parents. I packed my stuff and am leaving their home as a healthy teenage boy about to start his first semester of college. In some strange way, I’ve given them what they always hoped for: a future for their son.

  Hannah presses into my side and rubs her face on my sleeve. “We should head out. I heard we might actually get snow.”

  “We get sleet. We always get sleet.” I chuckle and wrap her in my arms, checking the thick clouds overhead for verification.

  She hugs my parents and they give me their final I-love-yous before the two of us settle into the heated interior of my car. Hannah’s hand slides over the console and her fingers interlock with mine as I turn and give one last wave and pull out of the driveway.

  We’re not guaranteed much in this world, but if you’re lucky, someone might come along and will show you exactly how much life there is to live.

  In the back of my car sits a book filled with pictures of a summer where death was as close as a heartbeat.

  In the passenger seat sits a girl that made it worth the fight.

  And ahead of us, through a slightly frosted windshield, there’s a whole new chapter we’ve yet to start.

  About the Author

  Amber is a full-time mom, full-time wife, is employed full time, and writes when she can. She believes in Happily Ever Afters that occur every day - despite the obstacles that real life serves up on a regular basis. Or perhaps they're sweeter simply because of them. She always has two rubber bands on her wrist, a song in her head, and too much creamer in her coffee cup that reads 'Cocoa' - because she's a rebel. If she's not at her desk, with her boys, or behind the computer, she's supporting live music with her arms raised above her head and eyes closed, waiting for the drop.

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to the following individuals who without their contributions and support this book would not have been written:

  To Kathie Spitz who has edited (almost) everything my fingers have typed for the last four years. And who graciously offers advice and comfort in the most trying of times.

  To Lori Wilt who has read and re-read (and read again) the words I’ve put out into the world. I never knew a simple email could align the stars to gift me with one of my best friends in the universe.

  To Stephanie Alexander who said, “Please write this” and cheered me on every last step of the way. She’s the reason I write, and the reason I never gave up.

  To Angela Vanburen and Mary Latunski, my nurses who suggested samples, sunny days and right-sided ports. These ladies made sure I kept it authentic, and my gratitude is unwavering.

  To Annie Rockwell for making a masterpiece out of three simple pictures.

  For the friends that I made read this, thank you for making time for me. I’m forever indebted.

  To April who put her degree to use and told me she was in my corner when I needed it most.

  No amount of thanks would be enough for the invaluable support and mentoring given to me by the wonderful Sydney Logan. Her encouragement and step-by-step advice has meant the world to me, and I'm a hundred percent sure you wouldn't know about this book without her.

  And lastly, to Sara McClung who granted me the opportunity to have her look over ten pages and gave me invaluable feedback that ended with, “I’d buy this.”

  And to you because you gave this a chance. Thank you.

  Connect with Amber

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