I planned to sleep in that morning. I planned to make a fat stack of buttermilk pancakes. I planned to share my new memories.
I woke up to a scream. I barely drank a few sips of water. I remembered the old memories.
            Rewind to the night before. We, the Mountain View Spartan Marching Band, were on the bus returning home after crushing the competition and snatching the Lady along with eight other awards. I came back home after midnight, naturally high on the night’s victory with only my brother awake to spread the news to. I wanted to wake up my parents and tell them everything that happened that day, but I knew I should wait till morning. With that thought, I drifted into a dream…
            I woke up to shouting- it was my mom’s voice traveling from the other room through the paper thin walls. Am I still dreaming? No, I actually hear it. My first thought was that the voice was excited. But at 6:00 in the morning? Something’s not right. There was panic in that voice that called my brother’s name. I planned find out what was happening and then return to bed to get my much needed sleep.
            As my weary eyes adjusted to the bright yellow light of the hallway I first saw the tears streaming down my mother’s face. Then I saw him, my dad, on the couch wrapped in his dark shawl, as still as a mountain. I raced over in panic and disbelief. “What happened Mum? What’s wrong?” I asked. She said, “It’s Dad, he’s dead.” She had to be telling me a lie. She just had to be. My brother dialed 9-1-1. My brain lagged as it slowly took in the scene. Oh God, what did I learn in Health last year? Check for a pulse. Nothing. Not a single movement. Just a blank face. No warm smile. No annoying Russell Peters impressions. Nothing.
            I stood around in panic. What do I do? I opened the door and switched on the porch light. The paramedics wouldn’t be long; the fire station was behind the houses across the street. But time moved slowly. How much longer will they be?
            The rest became a slow blur. The paramedics tried everything. My brother held my mom as they cried. I was alone and tearless as I sat on top of the subwoofer in the corner of the room. I was out of place and in shock. This can’t be real. This isn’t supposed to happen to me.
            For me, that morning was the last thing I expected would happen. I thought I would be celebrating a victory, not mourning a loss. Yet I try to look back on it all and see how it has made me a stronger person. I know my friends and family are always here for me and I am there for them. I not bogged down by the trivial problems in life, because I know things could be worse and that right now everything is okay.
Whether they’re big or small, we all make our plans in life, from the generic school-college-job-family plan to the simple survive-the-day plan. But on the hand, the moments and memories impacting us the most are never planned. They sneak up when we least expect it, whether we’re ready for them or not.
No one can plan every inch of life, because life has no set road. It travels through uncharted territory. Like Alice, who fell down the rabbit hole, we don’t know where we’re going, but there’s no point in sitting alone in one spot. Just follow a new road and eventually, you’ll get somewhere. It may not be where thought you wanted to go, but its better that being stuck in one hole. Things can go wrong on that road, terribly wrong, but that’s not the end of it. We have to learn from the past and use that knowledge to strengthen ourselves for the unknown roads and destinations ahead.