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Philip Rybarczyk

Professor Katie Sandy-Smith

English 1101

9/27/2020

Glass Shards and Trading Cards

Excitement filled the air that brisk May morning, as the sun creeped over the towering

pines, the fog lifted, and the dew settled into the grass. My mother, a large fifty four year-old

lady with medium length brown hair, gray at the roots, who stood about five feet three inches

tall, awoke three of my older brothers and I, early that morning and told us to pack our luggage

for a weekend trip. We packed our clothes for a weekend road trip, but not just any road trip, one

to attend my sister’s graduation ceremony from college. It would be a six-hour drive to Illinois

and if we left in time, we might make it before dark, but with four boys, you never leave on time,

especially these four. Stephen, the oldest, was seventeen, medium height, thin, brown hair that I

can only describe as a mop, and always something witty to say. Then came Randall, or as we

called him Ralphy, who was fifteen, medium height, thin as well, but had short black hair,

slightly fairer skin, and always seemed to be our parents’ favorite. Next came Jerome, who was a

chubby five-foot, twelve-year old, sandy haired lad and the brother I was closest with. Lastly was

me, a small boy of eight, four and a half feet tall on a good day, short curly blonde hair, and by

far the quietest of the bunch. As we prepared our things our excitement grew and we couldn’t

wait to be off, yet it took us far too long to get ready, and our father, a stubborn, average height,
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fifty eight year old man, hair dyed brown, but the dye that after a month shows gray at the roots,

yelled for us to hurry.

After an immense amount of effort on all our parts we all piled our bags into, our dull

silver GMC fifteen passenger van, with rust coming through the bumper and fender. Despite its

rough exterior the interior was clean, two front seats, and four benches behind. The upholstery in

particular was in good shape due to my dad’s insistence that we sit on purple towels instead of

directly on the seats. it only took us until the late afternoon, but at last we were off, finally on our

way to Chicago, Illinois. My dad drove, whilst mom was in the passenger seat, I was behind

them on the first bench, then Jerome was on the next bench back, then Randy, and Stephen on

the last. All of my brothers and I brought some form of entertainment: some books, a bit of

homework, our moms computer(which we each took turns playing games on), and my two

personal additions a penguin stuffed animal and a three inch binder full of Lord of the Rings

Trading Cards. My brothers and I all collected them, and while I knew we wouldn’t be playing

the game due to lack of space, I still liked to look at my collection.

So as our journey began, we passed the time as best we could. Occasionally mom looked

back and told me to do some homework, which I would do for about ten minutes. Of course all

of my brothers and I would start joking about something, and get too rowdy, to which dad

responded by yelling for us to pipe down so we didn’t distract him from driving; once he even

threatened to pull over if we didn’t cut it out. Each of us took turns playing games on mom’s

laptop as we passed from Ohio to Indiana and finally to Illinois. By this time the sun was setting

over the plains and cornfields, and one could see storm clouds and feel the air grow thicker with

humidity.
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Night fell upon our van and with it a storm. At first a drizzle of rain, then a steady stream,

and finally a downpour. I had wanted to sleep for the rest of the trip, but there was no chance due

to the rough highway, constant battle of rain clashing against metal roof, and the occasional flash

of lightning and rumble of thunder, like a million cameras flashing followed by a crash of a

thousand books falling. Still, dad kept driving, then the rain got louder and louder, as if someone

turned the volume dial up. Flash, rumble, and clash, but this time it didn’t stop. The rumble

continued and volume increased to the point I couldn’t hear anyone, our van had hundreds of

horses galloping atop it and hitting against the sides. Crash, thousands of small somethings flew

through the air, and wind crashed against my face. Had we had an accident? Couldn’t be, we

were still driving. A voice called out pull over, and the vehicle slowed to a stop, wind still cold

against my face. Mom asked dad “what happened, are you okay?” “I don’t know, I think so.” dad

replied, then a silence from both that seemed to last a century. That’s when dad said, “oh shit I

think I am bleeding.” with those words my blood went colder than a winters night, and a frostbite

chill crept into my spine. The blinding dome light went on, I looked down and there it was, an

old partially rotted two by four with bent rusted nails sticking out the side, and another similar to

it in dad’s lap. Mom looked over, her expression was one of shock and horror, blood rushed from

dads face like a river flowing down staining his shirt. I was flabbergasted, I sat wishing I had

somehow fallen into a deep sleep, and this was some vivid dream I could awaken from to find us

safely driving, yet I never woke.

The next hour passed at half speed, waiting for an ambulance coming from the other side

of the moon. Finally, those flashing blue and red lights arrived, and just as soon left, taking dad

with them. What had caused all this? Had lumber fallen out of a truck bed? No, it was a tornado.

A tornado had torn through a barn like a pack of wolves’ tears apart their unsuspecting prey, all
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that remains is a skeleton. In our case that skeleton had been hurled at our van, shattered the

driver side window, broken dad’s nose, and left him bleeding all over those seats he had worked

so hard to keep clean.

All the rest of us stayed in the van, and mom convinced the responding officer to let us

drive to the next exit, so we didn’t leave our van along the highway. So, at a snail’s pace, we

inched towards the exit and gas station where we would await my sister to rescue us from our

tragic circumstances. The rest of the night flew by, and before I knew it, we were at our hotel

making sure we had not forgotten anything in the van. While looking through my effects, I came

upon my trading cards, and for a second time was filled with that kind of dread that makes you

wish it were all a dream, they were covered in glass shards inside the binder and out. I could

barely stand to look at them. Something I once enjoyed looking at, now tainted by the infectious

sadness that comes with the shock of a tornado and a hospitalized father.

After only four hours of sleep, it was time to go to my sister’s graduation ceremony,

something I had been so excited for, I now anxiously awaited. We arrived and walked to our

seats, and for the last time I was filled with that horrific dread, why couldn’t this be a dream? I

saw my poor dear father, his nose blood red and the right side of his face scabbed over. He

looked as if someone had fought him the night before, and from his deflated demeanor he had

lost badly. It would be a sight that I would never forget.

Luckily, everything else went smoothly for the remainder of our road trip. My sister was

awarded her bachelor’s degree which we celebrated by going out on a boat. We were able to

return safely in a rental car, and eventually dad did look normal. Although I still notice little

things about his face even now, like, how one eye is slightly more closed than the other. To this
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day mom hates to drive in the rain, and when I am caught in a storm I wonder if it is another

angry tornado come to break more windows. When I look at my trading card collection, I

remember that burst of wind, rain, and cold that accompanied the shards of glass and a faint chill

goes up my spine.