“Jane, Jane c’mon were going to miss are flight,” my mother said as I stood in the giant airport, staring at the ceiling. It was the summer of 1997 and I was about to go on my first plane ride, to be more exact, I was about to board Flight 55 heading east to Miami Beach. As we ran through the airport lugging are suitcases full of bathing suits and sunscreen, I imagined myself in the sunny air and warm soft sand. I mean, I still couldn’t believe it; I was finally going on a vacation. This could end up being one of the most valuable and meaningful memories of my life.

We made it to the gate and boarded the plane without a minute to spare.
The plane took off and finally we were in the air. I snuggled up to my window seat and prepared myself for a 6-hour flight. That’s all I could remember until I was violently awoke by the loud noises and bright flashing lights in my eyes. The air masks started falling from the ceiling. I heard the flight attendant tell us to prepare for an emergency landing. The last thing I remembered, was getting hit in the head by a gigantic flying metal object knocking me unconscious.

When I awoke, I was in a tiny hospital room filled with bright light. A blond haired nurse was starring over the top of me. She handed me a big glass of cold water and told me; I had been in a coma for 2 days. Her gentle voice was coaxing me to go to the restroom but my legs felt limp and lifeless like wet noodles. I asked her what happened and she told me the planes engine failed and crashed in a small field in Georgia.
I remembered my mother was also on the flight. I asked the nurse wear my mother was and if she was ok. The nurse looked me strait in the eye and told me I was the only survivor on the plane. I started to cry, my mother was dead and I was all-alone in a hospital with no family or friends. As I lay there, I tried to remember all the good things about my mom to make me feel better, but it just was not working. I missed her so much.
It has been ten years since that terrible crash. To this day people still come up to me and tell me I’m special to be the only survivor of one of the most horrific crashes ever. But I don’t see it that way; I mean, I wonder all the time why only I survived. I wasn’t any better or didn’t have anything more than the other people on the flight.
I guess I just had faith or maybe I was the lucky one. But really in the end do you think I was the lucky one? I lost my mother, my best friend, my only family and my life. Then I wonder… maybe…. god put me in this world to do something special. Or maybe my mom asked God to let me live instead of her. Or maybe one day I will wake up and this will all be a dream. But until now I’m just Jane, the girl who survived flight 55.