The Scar On My Foot

January 11, 2010
Custom User Avatar
More by this author
When I was about 3 years old my sister was 2 at the time. As usual, we were sitting at the kitchen table waiting for our breakfast. It was a sunny summer day. It was warm outside, the birds were chirping and the suns reflection was shining onto our kitchen table. You could see the rays of sun beaming onto the green plants across the room.

My sister’s baby seat was connected to the edge of the wood, rectangular table. The table is attached to the wall of our kitchen. 2 other chairs are around the table unoccupied at this time.

My mom made some luscious pancakes for us. They were round and golden brown. My little sister only had one pancake while I had many. They were delicious. I said to my mom, “wow, these are great, can I have more?” “No”, she said with such force. You’ve had enough. Let’s save some for your father”. I wasn’t happy, but I understood.

After we completed our breakfast and cleared the table of all the plates, my mom took my sister out of her baby seat and placed her gently on the floor. She walked into the living room with my mother. Instead of me leaving the kitchen, I looked over at the empty baby seat and wondered what it would be like if I tried to sit in it. I peered around the kitchen, peaked into the living room to see if anyone was around. No one was there. It was my chance. I scurried over to the chair and climbed up on it. I thought this was exciting and fun. I was thinking, wow, look at me. I began to jump on it, but never thought of what could have happened. Suddenly, I heard a crack. I jumped off the chair, examined it, thought it was fine and proceeded to get back on it again. Wow, this was fun.

Jumping around over and over with no care in the world, I felt my feet slide under me. I began to fall and did a back flip in the air and landed extremely hard onto the wood floor. Ouch!! I screamed!! I grabbed my back with one hand and rubbed it while my other hand was still holding onto the edge of the table. . I was laying flat on my back now with my feet directly under the table. It all happened so fast. I saw it coming. The shaking of the table. It began to lean over coming towards me. I knew it was coming but couldn’t react fast enough. Oh, No!!! CRASH!!!

My head hit the ground. I saw dust everywhere as the table landed on top of me. I could just barely see the giant hole in the wall from the now broken table. I couldn’t believe what had just happened. I was shaken and didn’t think about the consequences that were obviously going to come from my parents.

My mother and father came running into the kitchen as the heard the loud noise. Since I was having difficulty trying to get from under the table, my father grabbed me as my mother pulled the table off of me to free me. I looked at my foot and noticed I was bleeding. My parents had asked, “What happened?”. You can imagine they were not pleased with what had just occurred. I proceeded to tell them and of course, they were angry and annoyed. However, they wanted to make sure I was fine first before they scolded me. My mom cleaned my foot up with antiseptics and then bandages it. I felt much better but still shaken from what had just occurred. I thought I was going to be punished but I wasn’t. They were more concerned that I was alright but was told never to do anything like that again. I agreed.

A few days later, I went to get an X-Ray on my foot. It continued to bother me since the accident. The Dr. asked, “How did you do this?”. Embarrassed, I told him the entire story. He chuckled, but advised me never to do that again..again, I agreed.

It turned out I had broken my foot and had to get a cast placed on it. They also gave me a cane to help me walk.
As of this day, I still look down at my foot remembering that horrible day. I look at the scar often and tell myself never to do something that crazy again.

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback