Broken Bones  − 1 April, 1990

It was a month before I would be out of second grade at Easton Elementary, and the monkey bars were calling to me. Dad specifically said "NO CLIMBING", mostly because he was afraid of heights. Of course, I wanted to do what the other kids were doing, so I licked my palms for friction and jumped off the low bar to the high one. I fell down...down...smack onto the concrete below.

The diagnosis? Three fractures in my left wrist, and six weeks in a cast.

Comments:

BrianZimm (September 5, 2006. 01:54am)

Coming from someone that never broke a bone, but remembers kids doing that in elementary school, "Ouch, that sucks!" Well-written short story. This proves not all stories need to be long.