Memories

I was afraid. In one of my earliest memories that's all I can feel. I was four, maybe five, so my sister had to be about nine at the time. I was still living in Tacoma. Laura was pushing me on the swing set in our backyard and I was laughing and I was higher in the air then I'd ever been before. Thinking this was as close to flying as I'll ever get. We were so happy and acting just like sister are supposed to; Laura wasn't ignoring me and I wasn't throwing a fit. One push to hard was all it took to unseat me and send me tumbling to the ground.

Landing on my back, I stared at the slowly spinning blue sky above me and was afraid. The wind was knocked out of me and my lungs burned, my ribs throbbed and my ankle was sending shooting pain up my leg. Laura screamed, and running in the direction of the house, told me she would get Mommy to help. I made a few tenative moves to sit up but that made my lungs and ribs hurt in an even more agonizing way. I was afraid that something was broken, I was afraid because I didn't know what was happening or why it hurt so bad. Then my Mom was there and I could let her worry and be afraid instead. Nothing was seriously wrong and I didn't need to go to the hospital but that's my first memory of being afraid or hurt. Its branded itself in my mind, my first glimpse of real pain and fear.