Hold On Tight, 2024

That night wasn’t supposed to go the way it did. I had traveled to Mexico for Mother's Day, planning a quick visit with friends, a few drinks, and making it home before my parents woke up. But, like many nights, time slipped away. My friends, alre...

That night wasn’t supposed to go the way it did. I had traveled to Mexico for Mother's Day, planning a quick visit with friends, a few drinks, and making it home before my parents woke up. But, like many nights, time slipped away. My friends, already drunk, had fallen asleep, and by the time I passed the rodeo grounds, it was clear it was too late—or maybe too early—to keep going. I hit the gas, anxious to make it home. But as the car rounded a curve too fast, I felt it. The loss of control. I gripped the steering wheel, hoping to pull it back, but I knew I couldn’t. “Hang tight!” I shouted as the car began to turn—once, twice, then more. With each turn, my mind raced from thinking it would be just a scratch to something far worse. Miraculously, we landed upright. For a second, I thought it wasn’t that bad. I turned to the back seat and saw my friend lying there, blood spread on the roof. My mind jumped to cleaning it before my parents saw it. But when I looked at the passenger seat, my heart sank—my friend wasn’t there. I scrambled out, shouting his name. No answer. I saw the trailer coming and panicked, waving it down before it hit our wreck. And there he was, motionless, just feet away from the trailer, lying still on the pavement. In that instant, everything froze. The ambulance came, the cops arrived, and my friends were taken to the hospital. After days in the ER, they were all right. As for me, a neck immobilizer and some bruises were my only physical reminders. But that night never left me—the guilt, the fear, the weight of it all stayed. This painting is the story of that night. The moment when life turned upside down, and I realized just how fragile it is. It’s about the chaos, the fear, and the recognition of how quickly everything can change. How lucky I am that my friends survived—how different it could have been.