Memory Essay

I’ve broken my arm three times in my life- the one that was the most shocking for me at the time was when I was five and dislocated it.
I was a very quiet child when I was five, and I only really talked to my one friend in kindergarten. We were on a class field trip to the playground. When we first got there, I smelled the dirt and grass brush by in the wind, and the sun’s light glared on the playground’s shiny metal. I got excited and kicked up the dirt as I ran toward the slide. I smelled metal and squinted my eyes often from the sunlight. I went down the burning slide a few times, ignoring the heat.
My friend wanted me to play with her, and so I followed her, and we swung on the yellow plastic rings next to the swings. We ran through the dust and dirt determined to play on everything in sight. I then saw where my friend was running, and it amazed me. This structure, or often called “monkey bars”, was towering over me, and it was covered in bright silver metal everywhere. It smelled a little like rust, and its height especially intimidated me.
My friend was a bit of an acrobat for her age, and she leaped up there and went across. I listened to her hands hit the bars, and I climbed up the thin metal steps to reach the higher metal bars; I held on inhaling and exhaling a few times. The bars were hot, but not as hot as the slide. My friend called me a couple of times, and I complained it was too high. She went back and forth rocking the skyscraper bars and making squeaking sounds, displaying that it was simple. I breathed in again, feeling the wind and watching the rest of the playground. I grabbed the first bar and moved across slowly at first, and then kept feeling the bars and rhythm, I bounced and swung to the end. I decided to try again with confidence. I flipped around on the metal steps, and I felt one bar, two, and...nothing.
The moment seemed slow and quick at the same time. I felt the air I grabbed onto rush all around me. The grass smell seemed the strongest at first, and then I smelled the dirt as I landed on it. The sun was suddenly in my eyes, and I couldn’t breathe. I thought I’d landed on my back first, since I was on it. I looked around, and the playground seemed endless and the other parents and children seemed distant from the ground. The wind came again, and I tried to breathe with it. It unlocked me from the ground’s hold, and I then saw a familiar figure approaching. I got up feeling nothing wrong until I moved my left arm, and I suddenly felt a sharp pain. I looked at it and it didn’t look bloody or anything to me, but any movement felt like it was ripping. I looked up at the skyscraper monkey bars in the sun, finally realizing my defeat, and cold tears began running down my face.
I could hear my voice starting to make wailing noises on its own, and the fear of what had happened to my arm made the tears come faster mixed with the wind. I felt arms grab me up, and despite being happy for the comfort, the movement restarted the pain, and I continued to cry. My mom’s voice began asking what was wrong, and all I could through the wailing was mumble, “my arm hurts.” My mom asked for a car ride to the hospital, as my mind blurred watching the playground fade away toward the parking lot. I suddenly was in a small blue car, and I noticed my arm wasn’t bothering me. I moved it a bit as a test and the pain came back. I cried more, as the car started and the vibrations hurt my arm. My mom and someone else’s mom’s voices murmured in the background. The playground’s image blended into the trees as I was led away from the fun day.