Showers and Stitches
Hello friends and welcome back to the Blog! :)
Today, I wanted to take you down memory lane to a time that was both exciting and disturbing.
When I was in the fourth grade, I remember playing in the rain all day on Memorial Day with my best friend Isabel. We spent hours jumping on the trampoline flipping and splashing. Once we finally got bored, we decided to grab our bikes from the garage. Then, we were off—flying down the golf course hills with the perfect combination of rain and mud to catch maximum speed. It was as if we were in a wild, unchoreographed action movie.
But then, it all went wrong...
On one of my runs down the hill, the bike chain locked, and next thing I knew I was flying headfirst over the handlebars. At first, I thought it was hilarious—epic even—but when I turned around, I saw a look of horror on Isabel’s face. My left knee had a gash the size of a sliced peach.
Before I could even react, Isabel was already sprinting for the house. She burst in, with my mom cooking something on the stove and with my dad in the shower. Without missing a beat, my parents rushed outside. My dad was still soaking wet from the shower and my mom had her pajamas on. I was scooped me up by my dad, slung over his shoulder and thrown into the back seat of our tan Suburban. My dad bound my knee with his shirt impressively tight, and we headed straight to the ER in the middle of a torrential downpour.
At that moment, I was so confused—my knee didn’t hurt, and I didn’t feel anything at all. We pulled out of the driveway, and I looked back to see Isabel standing in our front yard, completely traumatized. I honestly felt bad for her. Poor girl.
The drive and stay at the hospital was a blur. I was drugged up, stitched up, and sent on my way. That was when I discovered a secret talent: to remain clam in the chaos of a situation. Instead of succumbing to the fear of my injury, I rationalized. My knee didn't hurt because I cut it so deep the nerves were completely damaged. My parents even told me I was very brave and rewarded me with an ice cream reward. How can I not think bravery is my superpower after being rewarded with an ice cream...
Looking back on it, I think the real hero was Isabel. At just eight years old, she didn’t freeze or panic—she immediately ran to get help. I’m sure I scarred her for life, and I’m honestly not sure if we stayed friends after that. If you’re reading this, Izzy, I hope you’re doing well!
Life has a funny way of teaching you who you are in the most random moments. I think that day taught me two big lessons: to trust the people around you and to breathe in a situation where it is easy to panic and let fear take over.
Oh, how I miss childhood. One day, you wake up, and suddenly you’re a grown-up, having to figure out what you want to do with your life and how to pay your bills. This is your sign to slow down, smell the roses, and take a trip down memory lane.
I’d love to hear your childhood stories in the comments below. Thanks for tuning in today—I love you guys!
Until next time!
XOXO,
Aves
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