Memory Shifts

One evening my sister and I tussled about on the big bed–the single bed not attached to our bunk beds.  Elizabeth, more recently known on occasion as ‘Hulk Beth,’ pulled me down and flipped me over her leg.  I remain convinced that it was some fancy Judo move she just happened to improvise.  I flew off of the bed and struck my head on the jagged corner of the electric heater.  Immediately I felt dizzy and then I was bleeding.  But, I was relatively coherent so I didn’t panic.  We put an ice pack and a rag over my gash…

No, it didn’t happen that way.  The way my sister tells the story, I launched myself over top of her, my temple aiming directly for that rusty corner, and I never made a sound.  Even after I put my hand to my head and felt the wetness that was my blood, I didn’t speak…

No, what really happened is the story of two little girls who were rough housing when gravity decided to join in.  Once gravity had thrown one of the girls a twist, literally, skin took offense and blood felt the need to comfort it.

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