Thursday, January 12, 2012

My only stitches

The summer breeze wove between the houses and across the field, which was mostly open. Justin, Emily and I were in the field behind her house in Ohio. Our mothers were friends, so when she moved from Plymouth, they kept in contact and, as a result, a couple of our summer vacations growing up thrust the three of us together. This was one such vacation.

From the back door the yard looked initially like most backyard. A grill and toys and plastic playground equipment. We played there for a while, but it ignored the rest of the wonder. Away from the house, it opened up into a wide and deep field, which connected all the houses. Crossing the middle of that field was a fence, which I learned we were not supposed to cross, and very near that fence was a large tree.

I loved climbing trees, something I tell my kids not do all the time, because they love climbing trees too. From the yard, I could see this tree was tall, with thick, low branches. The leaves were light and handholds, nearly all the way up, looked good. With very little convincing, the trio of us moved to play by and in the tree.

From the middle of the field, everything looked and felt different. It seemed warmer, I took off the blue windbreaker I was wearing and draped it over the chain link fence. From here looking back, the houses all looked so similar, it was hard to remember which one was Emily's. Justin and Emily were not as gung-ho about getting into the tree, but I had already forgotten what it was we had done before. This is what we were here for.

The fence made the first part of the climb easy. You used the branches as handholds and wedged your feet in the holes of the fence. With just a little pulling, you were airborne. From there I moved up into the second rung of branches and began goading the other two. They were slow, but joined me eventually. I thought we would play in our tree all afternoon.

I don't remember what I was trying to do, but I slowly lost my grip. Not a free fall, but a moment when your feet are dangling and then you realize your hands are not secure enough to adjust. I was going to fall, I just hadn't yet.

In that moment, my world became very small. What was below me? Where we're Justin and Emily? How high up was I? The field, the houses, the breeze, noises and smells were all gone. I took a breath and release.

It was perfect. I flexed my legs, so that when they hit the ground they would absorb the fall. My hand and arms were up, at angels to keep my balance. I felt pretty good about it, until my right elbow bumped the fence.

At first, I didn't think it was any big deal, but when I looked at it, that changed. The top of the chain link fence, where two of the wires that make up its construction we're bent together, was stabbing into my elbow. When I lifted my elbow, it stuck just a little. The bleeding was fast and heavy.

I grabbed my jacket off the fence and wrapped my arm, I needed to get to the house. A bandaid would do, I was thinking. I took off running. Emily and Justin trailed just a little behind me, they knew I was hurt, but I don't think they really saw the wound. By the time I got to the yard, the blood had leaked from under the wind breaker, and was streaming toward my shoulder. This was in part because I had held my arm aloft while I was running.

Suddenly I could see we were going to loose the freedom of the tree. This injury would mean we would not be able to climb the tree again. At the top of my lungs, so everyone was clear, I said, "Don't tell Mom."

The door opened just before I grasped the handle. "Don't tell Mom, what?" my Mother said looking down on me. I broke.

It took 9 stitches to close the gap in my arm and we never went back to the tree.

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