Currently, I am reading On Writing by Stephen King. I’ll tell ya, that guy had a rough childhood. This poor kid accidentally wiped his ass with poison ivy. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain involved in that.
But it got me to thinking about childhood injuries and I can think of two. No, 3. I can think of 3 particular injuries. Some mine, and some my brothers.
The first takes place at the lake. My youngest brother, jer’s dad liked to go to the lake and he liked to take all there of us kids and my mom. Dan really liked his beer too. He was fishing while Jer, Matt and I skipped rocks in the lake. Matt walked away to get a drink and walked right behind Dan. He wasn’t paying attention and when he went into his overhead cast, the hook swung behind him and right into Matt’s cheek. Needless to say, we had to leave and go to the hospital.
The next story is my own. I was in second grade and I went to school on a warm fall day in Phoenix, when I got to school, I ran to the playground where my friends and I always played Hot Lava Monster. I ran around for about twenty minutes, and then the bell rang. I ran across the asphalt to the place my class ligned up every morning.
When I got in line, I started to really notice the sun. I was already heating up. The sun was making it worse. And then I could have sworn the sun got brighter. And then there was darkness. I can’t describe what blacking out feels like. Coming to is so strange because it’s like nothing happened, but the lighting is weird, you’re sweating, everyone is staring at you, and somehow you ended up on the floor.
But I came to and the mother of one of the kids in my class was screaming for help in Spanish. I was disoriented and there was blood everywhere and my face hurt. That’s when I realized I had fallen forward and landed straight on my face. Those scabs took a while to heal…
The last story is a bit of a compilation. I like to call it, “why people think I tried to kill Matt.”
Exhibit A: one sunny afternoon, probably a Saturday, my mom, brothers and I were in the backyard of Geema’s house, we were helping her dig up dirt and plant things. Well, I grabbed the shovel and when I went to plunge it into the earth, my brothers sandaled foot was in the way. He had to go to the hospital.
Exhibit B: one night, after school, Matt and I are making dinner for the family, burgers and fries. I ask Matt to dry off the fries so they aren’t completely saturated in oil. I take the frying pan full of burgers to the sink to drain extra grease, and shirtless Matt was in the way. My family will swear I did this on purpose, but I don’t remember maliciously trying to burn my brother. I’m not that mean. Anyway, he had a really bad burn for a few weeks.
Exhibit C: when we were kids and Jer was still a baby, Matt and I shared a room and a bunk bed. We also liked to play like we were pirates and pretend hang each other. This time we used the drawstring from a hoodie and we each had it around our necks, only, when it was Matt’s turn, I kicked his feet out. He legitimately could have died that day, but he caught his feet on the rail of the bed and got away with a nasty “rope mark” on his neck. I know this sounds so bad, but again, I promise I wasn’t trying to kill my brother. I was a little kid and I remember thinking it wouldn’t hurt like it did in the movies, but I was wrong.
To this day, my brothers and I are all really tough on each other, but is it really any wonder why?
Share your stories as a post and link me, or leave a comment. 🙂
Peace & love,