Listen very carefully because the true meaning of the story is hidden within its words. Only thinly veiled, but veiled nonetheless.
I don’t profess to be the greatest writer in the world, just a simple storyteller. Don’t have to be a great writer to be a storyteller. Just have to be a good rememberer. Remembering is what some say I do best. And I remember a time at age 6, on an old familiar street not so far away called Flamingo I should’ve died.
Wedged in a spider-filled, concrete drainpipe some 30 feet under Flamingo, I couldn’t move. Screaming for help until I no longer could breathe, I felt all hope was lost as death tightened its grip around me.
Then a distant voice yelled, “Hey! You staying down here all day? Move it!” Big Brother James heard my cries and I was finally going to be rescued. I should’ve died that day. But it wasn’t in Life’s plan for me. There was still something I had to do.
At age 19, I thought Life’s plan was for me to be the next great magician like Harry Houdini. And that’s how I found myself bound in a straitjacket dangling from a rope tied around my ankles high above the ground.
The plan was to escape from the straitjacket and then climb back up the burning rope to safety. When the rope burned through prematurely, I plummeted head first 30 feet to the ground. I should’ve died that day. But it wasn’t in Life’s plan for me. There was still something I had to do.
It is said you always remember your first. It’s the same for firefighters. The first fire of my rookie year was at the FAA building near the airport. A reported fire had broken out in the sub-basement. Our fire crew was ordered to man a hose line, find the fire and extinguish it before the building was a total loss.
Struggling, pulling the hose behind us, I crawled into the burning building following my lieutenant. Just inside the door we were completely enveloped in black smoke. Down the steps we slid blind in search of the fire’s origin.
At each landing, I wanted to turn back due to the tremendous heat from below. Down and down we went. Soon the heat became unbearable. Acting as a chimney, the staircase was funneling all Hell’s fury escaping from below. And we were right in its pathway to the outside world!
Suddenly, the bell on my regulator rang, signaling there were only five minutes of air remaining in my tank. Lieutenant ordered me to follow the hose back to the truck, get another tank of air, and return. I never did. Fighting my way up from two stories below ground, I got disoriented, ran completely out of air, and lost consciousness. I again should’ve died that night. But it wasn’t in Life’s plan for me. There was still something I had to do.
There is a place between being asleep and being awake, where both dreams and nightmares struggle for control. Stumbling to the bathroom early last morning that is where I found myself — and found this story.
Gazing into the mirror, the reflection of a wrinkled face worn by time and circumstance wasn’t exactly the one familiar to me. There was something different. As the clouds of sleep finally cleared from my mind and I looked again, it was obvious to me my Life’s plan had completely changed. Then I heard the reasons why.
Giggling of two little souls was coming from the nearby bedroom, the very bedroom I had put our two granddaughters to sleep in before falling asleep on the living room couch the night before.
I called out, “Girls.” Giggling got louder and louder. As I gazed back into the mirror, Life’s plan for me came back into view. Not exactly the one I had planned.
By this age I should be on a beach somewhere enjoying retirement. Smiling, I counted a dozen or so Gummy Bears. At age 60, I’m picking Gummy Bears off my face and helping raise children once more.
Then suddenly I was attacked by the two little gigglers climbing up to grab an early morning snack and realized – This is what I was meant to do. This is why I’m still around.
It’s Life’s plan — one that has turned out better than I could ever have imagined.
[Rick Ryckeley has been writing stories since 2001. To read more of Rick’s stories, visit his blog: storiesbyrick.wordpress.com.]
