12/16/04 06:19 pm
No Reason To Rush
“Michelle, please be careful.” I receive that warning on many occasions, maybe because I always seem to be the one in my family to acquire an injury. A broken wrist, stitches, sprained ankles; you name it, I’ve obtained it. This usually happens because of my tendency to be extremely careless. One specific accident remains clear in my mind to this day.
I darted to the old cabin and changed into my pink swimsuit like I just entered an Olympic race. My face remained lit up from the happiness that rushed through my body.
“Hurry up, Michelle! We need to leave soon,” My mom demanded while she packed her suitcase. I didn’t want to leave. I focused on putting my swimsuit on faster. Today would be our last day camping in this rustic cabin. This disappointed me. My dad stood outside trying his hardest to cram all of our luggage inside the compact van. While I put my swimsuit on, I saw Brooke, my sister, outside through the window. Dirt covered her hands and face. It looked as if she had been searching for worms in the mud like a miner digging for gold. I returned to my suitcase and stuffed my clothes into it. Finally, I could go. In the distance I heard the door slam, and Brooke came stumbling in
“Look, Michelle! Look!” She shouted as she shoved the slimy worm in my face. I knew this might take awhile. “His name is Pete,” She told me as she smiled at her new
Friend. I observed him work his way through her forest of dirt-encrusted fingers struggling to free himself from my maniac of a sister.
“Get that thing away from me!” I ordered to her as I threw Pete across the room. I didn’t want to deal with this right now. Instead of helping Brooke, I bolted towards the door. The swimming crave embedded inside me began to cultivate. My last chance had arrived.
“First, I’m going to dangle on the rope swing and jump into the river. Then, maybe I’ll play in the canoe for a while,” I whispered to myself, planning what I would do.
Finally, the door appeared. I jiggled the rusty door knob as fast as I could until it opened and threw myself outside onto the porch. “Ouch!” I shrieked in pain as I froze in my tracks. I felt a knife-like object stab into my ankle. I looked down and saw blood covering the porch. I felt pain rush through my body. I knew I should have paid more attention while I ran outside. What I soon discovered caused my stomach to flip. The sharp, shiny, metal door scraped against my ankle like a dead fish being gutted. I collapsed onto the ground and continued screaming. This wouldn’t have happened if I took my time.
My mom came rushing over, “What happened? What happened!?” She frantically questioned me like a paparazzi crew. She kneeled down and peered at my ankle covered in deep red blood and nearly sucked in all of the air with a gasp. In a high pitched voice, she hysterically yelled for my dad. The blood soaked my ankle like ketchup on a hamburger bun. I wouldn’t even look at it, the pain grossed me out so much. My eyes had transformed into Niagara Falls as my oozing ankle began to throb. I felt like a bear hooking its foot in a trap. I feel for them now. They weren’t even being careless, but instead just minding their own business, unlike me.
My dad carried me into the van. I could tell he knew this happened because I wanted to be the first one to jump in the river. I’m she I’d be in trouble. No more swimming on this trip. I began to embark on a new trip: the Hospital. Instead of getting a nice t-shirt as a souvenir like most trips, I received the “special souvenir” of eight painful stitches.
The scar, which I still have, is oddly shaped like a backwards seven, and every time I see it I remember my ankle being torn apart all by the cause of my young carelessness. My parents also remind me, “Michelle, please be careful today.”
If you could help, I need to know if there are any errors in that. I have to turn it in tomorrow. Flawless.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
peaceful
hungry
tired
blah
blank
flirty
artistic
cranky
thirsty
excited
nostalgic