Friday, August 7, 2015

Write Yourself Alive (or not) 30 Days of Writing

Day 6- This should have been posted yesterday, however real life got in the way

Dig Deeper: Dissect change. What scares you or makes you uncomfortable about it? What helps you deal with it?  I am not afraid of change. In fact, I generally embrace it. I do get frustrated when the change makes no sense but is required. Something which happens often in the field of education. I have learned to bend like the trees in the wind and go with the flow of the river.
Writing Prompt: Write a short autobiographical story (1st or 3rd person) in which you reflect change. There must be an obvious before and after in the character/s.
This is the Way I Remember It
It was a warm and sunny August morning, the smell of bacon and eggs mingled with the smell of campfires. Kids in the campground used bread wrappers to wax the slide in the playground. My Aunt Rosie showed up with my younger brother, Dean, who wanted to go down the slide. I followed him up the ten foot slide. When he got to the top, he looked down and was frightened. Rosie told me to give him a push and she’d catch him at the bottom.
            So, I gave him a big shove. Dean stiffened as he flew down the slippery slide. Rosie could not get to the bottom fast enough. Dean screamed on impact. My mom heard him at our campsite, grabbed my baby sister and came running. Dad finished shutting everything up and followed with the car.
            We loaded into the car. Dean was lying across my parents lap. His head was on Mom and his legs were on Dad.  I was frightened. I wasn’t sure what had happened only my brother had been hurt. At the hospital they splinted my brother’s legs together. We had the choice to take him to Traverse City or Hurley Hospital in Flint. We lived in Flint so it was decided to go home. We had rented the campsite for two weeks. My dad stopped in at the ranger’s station to tell them what had happened and he’d be back on the week-end to get everything.
            It was the longest ride home ever. Dean cried every time the car hit a bump. Once Dad got Dean into the emergency room, he took the rest of us home. Rosie took the blame for everything, but I knew it was all my fault Dean’s leg was broken.
            I got physically sick with the guilt of hurting my brother. Mom and Dad were confused as I didn’t have a fever and seemed fine during the day, but would be up all night heaving my guts out. It took three days for them to finally get me to tell them it was all my fault Dean was hurt. I was the one who pushed him. Once I told them and we talked about how it really was no one’s fault it was an accident I started feeling better. It took some time for me to realize and come to terms with the fact things could have been done differently which would have prevented the accident to begin with, however while there was no lasting damage from the broken leg, it will always be something I remember.


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