earliest childhood memory

September 27, 2017
By Anonymous

When I woke up that morning, I thought it was going to be just like every other normal summer day. I got out of bed and ripped open the soft cotton curtains to look out my window only see the eastern Iowa weather. With no surprise, I saw that a bright yellow sun along with only a couple of clouds all contained within a pure blue sky. My attention faded from the sky, I stared to smell the delicious breakfast my father always made on the weekends bacon, eggs, and sausage. I walked out of my room and immediately hear the unforgettable sound of bacon crackling on the stove top. My mouth started to water more and more with every step. Yet I could almost taste the bacon without even having taken a bite yet.

After I got done with my breakfast, I did what every young kid would do on a summer Saturday morning, watch cartoons. As I was sitting there on the couch, I saw my dad walk out the door and go into the garage. I thought to myself “He’s probably doing something more interesting than these TV commercials”, so I followed him out to the garage. When I got to the garage, I saw him go to the tool box and take out a wrench. I asked him, “What’s that for?” He responded with “You’ll see” as most parents do when their child asks a question they don’t want them to know the answer to.

That’s when my father started to take off the training wheels of my bicycle, I realized what was about to happen next and started to cry profusely. As a result, I started to doubt myself and ask myself questions raced through my mind like “Am I really ready for this?” and “Why is he doing this?” Before I could answer these questions, my dad was finished. He came over to me and explained how I was ready for this and how I would have to learn to at some point in my life. “So why not learn now?” he asked.


I got myself together and got on the bike. I was terrified. My arms and legs were shaking so badly I could barely keep a good grip on the handle bars and I couldn’t keep my feet on the peddles. Even though my dad had one hand holding on to my shoulder and another on my back. I was still petrified that I’d fall and hurt myself. He told me “Everything was going to be alright”. For once in my life I believed him, and the violent shaking in my arms and legs slowed down to a slow twitch. My dad then gave me a small push and told me “start peddling.” So that’s exactly what I did. He walked with me for a couple of yards then let me go on my own down the short sidewalk that led down to the house. I began to think “I can do this. Just keep peddling, and I’ll be fine.” The fear of falling was slowly decreasing as I was rolling down the sidewalk picking up speed as I went on. Then I slowed down as I came to the end of the sidewalk. The bike stopped so fast that I fell off and promptly crashed hard onto the cold hard cement.

My arms and legs were covered in little scrapes and bruises except for my hands and knees they were bleeding profusely. I was scared because of the fact that I have never had an injury this severe before in my life time and seeing the rich red blood pouring of my hands and knees was terrifying. There was a sharp stinging sensation throughout in my entire body. I began to cry again, more violently then the last. My father ran over to me with a frightened look on his face.

He took me inside to get cleaned up. He sets me on one of the counter stools and I hear him turn on the faucet. The water came rushing out like a waterfall, I saw him take a rag and put it under the water. I started to prepare myself for the pain that was about to come as my dad took the wrung out rag and walked over to me. “It’s only going to sting in the beginning” he said as he put the damp rag on my blood soaked knee. The pain that I felt was like a thousand little needles being pushed into the wound. He kept the rag there for only a couple seconds but it felt like hours. When he finally pulled off the rag it was covered in blood, he washed off the rag and did my hands next. I didn’t experience as much pain as when he did my knees however there was just as much blood.

Naturally I thought we were done until he asked me “Where do you think you’re going?” I stood in shock waiting to hear what was about to come next. “We need to put hydrogen peroxide on those cuts otherwise they’ll get infected.” While horrified I got back in the chair and waited for my dad to come back in with the peroxide. I looked at my hands and knees and wondered if it would be better to just have them get infected, so I wouldn’t have to go through more pain than I have already gone through. Just then my dad walked in with the peroxide and grabbed a paper towel. He walked over to me and put the paper towel under my knee and without warning poured a small amount of peroxide onto my knee. It was one hundred times worse than when he cleaned it with a rag. My hands were next, as he poured it I knew what to expect so it wasn’t as bad but still horribly painful.

After it was all over and all of my small scratches and deep cuts were patched up, I had finally realized that this was just part of life. Everything new I’d learn will be hard work and sometimes I’d fall and get cut. However I’d have to get up and try again no matter how much it would hurt because I needed to learn something new.

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