Memories...

Sometimes it's hard to grasp that I am twenty years old. That I have lived twenty years. I look back and feels like it was no time at all...I mean, I can remember things from when I was nearly 3. I can remember birthday parties. I remember thinking to myself, "I can't wait until I'm 16." I remember the first time I slept over my grandparents. I remember getting my very first bike. I remember the first day I rode my bike without the training wheels. I don't know about everyone else, but memories are mostly stored in my mind like short clips of film. No sound...just kinda like watching a tiny clip. It's kind of like that with my writing as well. I see what I write like a movie inside my head. Rather, I see the story played out in my head...sometimes a scene is played out several different ways, and I just write down what I see.



I'm not quite positive how old I was...the oldest would've been six going on seven, as I had yet to get my glasses. It was summer and hot outside. All my siblings and I were outside playing in a tiny kiddie pool and the hose. Someone, probably my oldest brother, had the brilliant idea of pushing the kiddie pool underneath the swingset, fill it up with water, then climb half-way up the side of the swingset, jumping down into the kiddie pool for a refreshing splash. It was an old swingset...or perhaps it had just gotten a lot of wear from six kids. Several of the swings were broken off, and many of the screws on the poles had their protective caps missing. As I climbed up to enjoy another jump, one of my siblings (who shall remain nameless) jumped down, pushing into me. I got pushed up against one of the poles and my leg scraped against one of the uncapped screws, and I got a cut. I saw the blood and felt annoyed. I would have to run inside to get a bandaid! I've never been squeamish of blood and at that age, I was forever getting scraped up while playing outside. I ran inside and into the bathroom, managing to get the bandaid box down. I was found in the bathroom by Mom who took a look at my cut. It worried her slightly and she eventually decided to take me to the ER. I don't really remember the drive there, but I remember sitting and waiting, then being led into a room. I remember lying down and I remember a tall man saying to me, "It's not going to hurt. It'll just feel like a bee sting." I wasn't very afraid before that, but I certainly was then. I had (and still haven't) been stung by a bee. "You can hold your mom's hand and squeeze it." the tall man said, and I did exactly that. I don't really remember how painful it was, though I do remember squeezing my mom's hand tightly. I got stitches...I don't remember how many, but there weren't that many. I remember a woman telling me I was brave then asking me if I wanted to pick out a teddy bear. I said yes, and she led me to a closet? Where she pulled out a big box of teddy bears and let me choose one. I chose the most hideous bear of all...bright pink with bright purple overalls.