Reflections: Stumbling into Adulthood

I'm 18, sitting on a curb in the middle of a mile long bridge over a lake. My graduation present is wrecked, the front end crumpled and steaming after colliding with the only thing separating me from the water down below.

My wrists burn.

No one ever mentions friction burns and the smell of gunsmoke when an airbag deploys.

I'm here to visit friends in my old home town for their graduation later today. We hung out, I stayed the night. I followed them back into town, trying to catch up after getting stuck at an intersection.

A car up ahead slams on its brakes in the middle of the bridge. Every car behind it does the same.

I'm coming up too fast.

I swerve.

I miss my friend's car, but overcorrect. I'm all over the road before hitting the barrier and all I see is white.

Am I dead?

It takes a minute to realize there's an airbag in my face. I get out and sit on the curb, an ambulance arrives a few minutes later. I'm fine, but in shock.

My parents are not going to be happy about this.