I used to jump, hop, and skip around my neighborhood. Climb to the tips of the tress. Jump from rooftops (and promptly break my arm). I'd ride my bike fast to everywhere and anywhere that a 10 year old had the mind to do. I was fearless, invincible, and clever.
Like The Hulk and an epic fox mixed. Imagine a little kid, except extremely muscular, green, and with a fox face. You have now imagined a youngster Liz.
When I was little, my brother and I were trick-or-treating. I, the younger child, would go to the door, knock, and give an extremely long introduction.
"Hi. I'm Elizabeth and this is my brother Brandon and we're the Power Rangers! Trick or treat!" I said this at every house.
Okay, now for my favorite story.
When I was 10 (I think?), I broke both of my arms in a treacherous, almost deadly, bike accident. See, I was trying to showoff to my cousin. I rode my bike at top speed...only to be met by a car. I slammed on my breaks, then swiftly flew over the handlebars.
The funny thing about brakes on a bike...is you have to hit both of them. If you only use the front break, the bike will flip over, sending you with it. It took me a minute...but when the shock wore off, I became aware that I was in pain. Immense pain. OHMYGOD I'M DYING.
So, then I hear my cousin run off and come back with my mother who tells me to get up. Quit it. Don't get me wrong, my mom's not a cruel woman. She just thought I was being an awful drama queen. I remember the rest of it in clips.
I'm in my parents bedroom, begging to lie down. Mom says, "No. You'll go to sleep and never wake up." All the while I'm thinking, "You want me to DIE."
I'm in the back room, sitting on the couch, watching my arms swell and turn a nasty shade of purply blue.
My dad comes home, takes me straight to the emergency room. They take x-rays.
The nurse is trying to put a band-aid on my lip. I really just wanted her to stop because it‘s not working, but she was so nice.
"This is going to hurt a little," Doctor Man says. They crack my bones back into place. Half of me wants to scream. Half of me can't stop looking at them, marveling. Looking at my arm, disbelief. Wide eyed. "Is this really happening?" That's what I'm thinking.
Four broken bones. A nasty, bloody face. And multiple scrapes and gashes on my arms. An epic tragedy at the beginning of summer. I still continued to be a daredevil.
What killed my sense of adventure, then? Puberty. It killed my confidence and my crazed tomboy-ish-ness. I went into hiding and emerged an angsty preeteen. Which gently wore off into a terrified teenager.
Once legitimate adulthood comes around, one of two things will happen. Here's a chart of the possibilities:
If you came to my door and said you were a power ranger I'd give away all my candy.
ReplyDeleteProps for the tree diagram. I wasn't expecting one of those.
Most people lose their sense of invincibility with age and wisdom. It's a healthy thing to realize mortality and act with good judgment. As with most things, there is a medium between two extremes that must be reached to have fun taking risks but to also avoid risks that could end your days of having fun. Society tends to favor this median group and chastise the extremes as either paranoid or foolish.
That's my girl!
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