The Bucket

April 27, 2010
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It was one of those typical summer days. You know, the ones where it is too hot to go outside. Well, my sisters and I were sitting in the air conditioning watching T.V. when my youngest sister, Audrey, asked my other sister, Lexy, and I if we wanted to wash the car with her. We scrambled around the house to collect the hose, buckets, soap, and rags. What neither my sisters nor I knew was that in less than an hour, I would be screaming with pain.
I filled up the bucket with cool, refreshing water while Lexy poured an immensely big amount of soap into the bucket, and then tossed in the rags. Audrey was already dousing the car with the hose. We grasped the soapy rags in our hands and started covering the car in soap. Lexy and I would walk around the car many times, covering it in soap, while Audrey followed with rinsing the car with the hose. We went around about five times before the car looked brand new. We were very proud of our hard work.
We examined the car to make sure there was no soap left when I heard my mom shout, “Carly! Make sure to dump the water in the bucket into the grass!”
“Ok Mom!” I hollered back. The bucket was filled to the rim. I tried to lift it, noting it was surprisingly heavy, but got soaked by the water splashing out. I decided to pour a small amount of the water out onto the driveway. I then tried to lift it again. It was too heavy and without thinking I dropped the bucket. It landed on the big toe on my right foot, slicing it almost in half. I started screaming with pain. My mom ran out to me and lifted the bucket off of my toe. She tried to ask me what had happened but I was in so much pain that no words would come out of my mouth. She picked me up and rushed me inside. My dad came darting down the stairs to see what all the commotion was about. My mom set me on the family room floor while she and my dad scrambled for something to do about my wound. I glanced at my toe, looking at it for the first time since I dropped the bucket. I was bleeding a lot and my toe was swollen. I didn’t know what was going to happen to me. Would I have to go to the hospital? Would I need stitches? These thoughts continued to race thru my mind until my mom was with me.
She stacked a couple pillows for me to hoist my foot onto and then gave me a pillow to rest my head on. The tears were still running down my face as my dad snapped open the first aid kit we have. He started by clearing up the blood with a wet paper towel and then cleaned out my gash with hydrogen peroxide. It felt like jumping in a cold pool on a blazing hot day. It was very refreshing. After a lot of cleaning, my parents finally wrapped up my toe in layers of bandages.
My toe took a long time to heal, maybe about a month or so. I have a scar to remember this very important day. It made me realize how much my parents care for me and how they will always be there.

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