3rd grade: the year I fell. It was a chilly Autumn day. My classmates and I were frolicking on the playground when we decided to start a thrilling game of… TAG! Squeals filled the icy air as the muscles in my legs pumped to the beat of my heart. I could hear the footfalls of the tagger hot on my heels. Despite the cold, there was sweat dripping down my forehead. The riveting laugh of my pursuer fueled the adrenaline powering a new burst of speed. As I raced along, I took in my environment. Red, yellow, and orange leaves fell gently from the towering trees. On the other side of the fence, 4th graders gallivanted cheerfully. My smile grew wider as I noticed my best friend Emmy waving to me. As I took an empowering deep breath, the weather suddenly took a turn.

In whooshed a piercing blast of glacial wind. It bit at my hands, forcing me to tuck them into the beckoning warmth of my jacket pockets. My fists rejoiced as the heat covered them, and I smiled gleefully. No one could catch up to me now. I chuckled to myself as the tagger fell back, searching for easier prey. But my joy was short-lived as I suddenly tripped on a mischievous rock. The world started to slow down as I fell towards the concrete. I attempted to jut my palms out and halt the impact, but they were stuck, unable to leave the soft pad of my pockets. As my side hit the ground, my shirt fell back slightly, exposing my pale, fragile skin. I felt a stabbing pain as my flesh slid against the concrete, and all went black as my skull slammed to the ground.

“Is this heaven?” I wondered aloud to myself. A kind face hovered above me, smiling gently. I tilted my head, confused. “Wait a minute, Jesus isn’t a girl!” The woman chuckled, and I suddenly recognized her as the school nurse. As her soft laugh filled my eardrums, I could feel my cheeks burn. Then came the pain, rushing into my waist like a bullet. I bit my lip as hot tears appeared in my bright blue eyes. The nurses' soft hands brushed my hip as she bandaged my wound with scratchy cloth. She handed me a frigid ice pack and I cradled it tenderly to my side. When she swiftly left the room to answer the phone, I burst into sobs. My tears mixed with mucus as I wiped my dripping nose. The pain was unbearable, eating at my flesh like a wild beast. My wails turned to sniffles as the nurse sauntered back into view. She had noticed my crying and was coming to check on me. As she gently sat down beside me, I received the courage to speak again. “What hap-pened?” My feeble voice trembled as another wave of misery hit my side.

The nurse smiled solemnly. “You fell and hit your head. Mr. Ketel carried you into my office, and then you woke up.” The memory of my terrible trip flooded back into my mind. I felt tempted to return to my weeping, but the kind nurse put a hand on my shoulder. “Your father is going to come pick you up,” she whispered. I smiled weakly, and began to stare into the distance. Seconds turned to minutes, and soon a burly man stepped into the front office. 

My whole face lit up in pure joy. “Daddy!” I rocketed off the cushioned bench, and immediately winced. My body still wasn’t used to that much movement. My father came over and gingerly lifted me up into his arms. I nuzzled into him as he inspected me, frowning. My cheeks turned pink once again. “I kinda tripped…” He laughed heartily, squeezing me against his chest. 

As we exited the front doors, I realized I had learned a valuable lesson. Don’t run with your hands in your pockets. My gash slowly healed, turning into an ugly scar on my side. And whenever I see it, I remember just another one of the many mistakes I’ve made.