My head is ringing; I must have banged it against the window. I’m turned 180 degrees, facing the way I came, while the car that slammed into me is in the ditch. I already hear the sirens. The radio is still playing the music on low volume; I hit the off button and unbuckle my seatbelt to get out. I look at the front left side of my car, completely smashed in. I think to myself, a few more inches and that could’ve been me. I look down at my trembling hands, still not completely wrapping my head around what just happened. A bystander comes over and helps me to the ground. My whole body is now shaking, as they hand me water. Someone grabs my phone from my purse and hands it to me to dial my mom’s phone number. She doesn’t answer. I try again. She still doesn’t answer. I call her three more times- no answer. I call my brother; he picks up, and I tell him to tell our mom to call me. Now the paramedics are here, and they are helping me into the ambulance to look at my head. When my mom answers, she says she’s on her way, and I hang up. When in the ambulance, I start crying, finally realizing what has happened. The EMT talks to me to try to calm me down. He checks out my head; I was just cleared from the concussion that kept me out of cheer for 5 months, and now I go ahead and injure myself again- my coach won’t be too happy about that. “Lily, take it out for a drive,” my mom says, snapping me out of the past. I turn to look at the new car I was getting ready to drive for the first time; in fact, it was the first time I’d driven at all since my accident. My mom hands me a penny that was in the glove box. “For good luck,” she says. It is in this moment that I decided to always keep this penny in my car, so I will always carry luck with me, wherever I go.

I’m sitting in the car, as I adjust the mirrors and height of the seat. The cloth seats are warm in comparison to the cold April breeze outside. My mom is sitting next to me, patiently waiting for me to start the car and get the heat going. I turn the key slowly, and shift the gear out of park. I pull out of the drive, taking a deep breath as I turn onto the road where I used to drive down every day to pick my sister up from school. How could a place I once had no connection with and never paid attention to, suddenly be so important? My mom tries to ease my mind, making small talk with me. I indulge in the conversation, but my mind hasn’t fully drifted from the thoughts of someone slamming into me. I think about how it’s been almost a year, and I still haven’t driven down that same road, the one where a single moment changed everything. Before I know it, I’m back where I started, parking the car where I found it, now staring at the penny and silently thanking it for getting me back in one piece. 

It’s sunny outside the next day, a chilly breeze keeping us kids from wearing shorts and tank tops. My mother is sitting in the grass outside our house, picking through the grass. She’s a beautiful person, really. Her straight black hair, long eyelashes, the dark brown eyes that show the hardships she’s been through if you were to look closely enough. She’s got the personality of someone you just can’t stay away from. Outgoing and confident, she’s never afraid to stand up for what’s right; I’m proud to call her my mother. She’s sifting through the weeds and dandelions, picking up clovers. I look closer- not just any clovers, but four-leaf clovers. She takes them inside, pressing them in a book for the next couple of days. The whole process is interesting to watch. A few days pass, and I silently watch her press them through the laminator, intrigued by how the whole thing works. How a little clover picked from the ground, deprived of the necessities required to survive and exposed to such extreme heat, can still be so green as if still pulling nutrients from the soil. She gives it to me, and repeats, “for good luck.” I think back to yesterday when she said the same thing as she passed me the penny that’s currently awaiting me to go on a drive.

Some people think I’m superstitious; I’m not saying they’re wrong. They think, how can a penny or a weed determine your safety, or what’s to happen? I don’t have a good answer, except that it gives me something material to believe in, something that symbolizes luck, and I believe carries it also. When you go through something traumatizing, you become proactive, changing old habits or adopting new ones, learning from history so it doesn’t repeat itself. I like to believe that is what I’m doing, simply making myself more comfortable. I still carry the laminated four-leaf clover in my purse and have the penny in the side compartment of my car, so that I don’t have to be afraid of being unlucky.