Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Thanksgiving (04/18/05)
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TITLE: Life Is What You Make Of It | Previous Challenge Entry
By Eric Horn
04/24/05 -
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"Life is what you make of it."
That was something Harold had said to himself every morning for the better part of his life. In fact, it was the governing credo not only of Harold’s life, but his father’s, his grandfather’s and nearly every member of the Ghennsen family past and present.
Harold pushed aside his unfinished breakfast, stood up from the table and looked out the window. The view from 35 stories high was unsurpassed, providing a breathtaking panorama of the city below. Harold enjoyed this view every morning, but today he was bored. The buildings, parks, ever-spreading cityscape and the ocean beyond weren’t providing the same aesthetic satisfaction they normally did.
Harold was still wondering why when the phone rang.
"Hi, it’s Stacey from GLI Insurance. I’m calling for Mr Harold Ghennsen."
Stacey’s upbeat, perky greeting was an unwelcome contrast to the peace and stillness of Harold’s morning reverie. Harold knew what the call was about and was not surprised to hear that his insurance claim had been approved. He’d chosen GLI specifically because of their good reputation for making quick decisions and prompt payments for claims. The fact that the accident was not his fault and the car was a complete write-off must have made the decision even easier for the claim adjustor. Stacey didn’t waste any of Harold’s time either. Once the few necessary details about his payout were confirmed she finished the call leaving Harold to go back to staring out of the window.
Harold was lucky to be alive. Yesterday’s accident could easily be described as horrific, yet here he was nearly 24 hours later, without a scratch and the reimbursement of his vehicle already taken care of. He thought about the crash and tried to remember what he could. But there was nothing to remember. It all happened so fast. One minute he was driving along the road and the next he was sliding out of his wreck of a car and standing well back from danger. The traffic had been normal for peak hour, but not overly bad. The roads hadn’t been wet. But an accident that caused the death of three people had left him unscathed. Why?
Harold’s educated and intelligent brain told him he was probably in a state of shock, but that didn’t stop him asking questions. Harold had devoted himself to work, career and business, things that hadn’t left much time for friends and family. Family members were few and friends, true friends, were non-existent. Harold had even less time for such trivial pursuits as the quest for the meaning of life. He considered things like that a complete waste of time. But today of all days, shortly after surviving a near-fatal accident he could allow himself a little bit of time for introspection. Surely that was allowed?
He knew he should be feeling grateful, elated that he was alive. People who brushed so closely past death were supposed to feel that way. Not being dead meant being alive, alive to do all those wonderful, special things that alive people – as opposed to dead people - did. Which led Harold to his current thoughts. What did he currently do that was so special? He led a nice life, in fact a very enviable life as measured by just about anyone. He had position and wealth, he was young and successful. He just couldn’t determine any reason or meaning for anything he did.
These were dangerous thoughts that he supposed would go away eventually, but Harold wasn’t sure he wanted these thoughts to go away or to stop pestering him. Harold desperately wanted to know what it was he should be thankful for. He had survived, but for what? He wanted to live a life worth living, but saw no purpose in his life as it now was.
Harold continued staring out the window, his window high above the city, separated and alone with nothing but his many expensive things and his thoughts. He was no closer to finding any answers, but for the first time in his life he was thankful not for the wealth that was in his apartment. Today, Harold was thankful for the strange and disturbing questions inside his head.
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