Miggy D
War Child
My only major scar is on the inside of my right arm, and it spans vertically across the place where the joint bends. I'd say it's about 4.5 inches in length. I got it when I was in kindergarten. First, I need to set up the scene:
Our elementary school playground had two tanbark play areas. One area had the fort-type structure, complete with slides and ladders and all that good stuff little kids seem to eat up. The other little 'tanbark island' had a jungle gym and swings. These two tanbark sections were connected over the blacktop concrete by a small wooden bridge. The bridge had arm rails on each side. It should also be noted that our elementary school was adjacent to several backyards from a neighboring group of houses, separated by both a wooden and a chainlink fence. Some of the trees from these backyards could be seen hanging slightly into our playground. Most of the tree branches were too high to reach. Most.
There was a girl in my kindergarten class that I absolutely adored. She had caught my eye from the beginning of the school year, and I was determined to show her my affection. I didn't really have a way with words back then (I hardly even have one now, when it comes to the ladies), so I decided to go with something simple and symbolic: I would pick her a flower. One of the aforementioned trees hung quite close to where the blacktop-spanning bridge had been built. By climbing atop the wooden bridge's left railing, I could reach up and pick a flower from one of the tree's branches. Or so I thought.
I climbed up onto the old bridge's railing, and reached my hand out to grab a flower. It was just barely out of reach, so I leaned, and leaned, and leaned...
And plumetted. My arm caught itself on the chainlink fence, but unfortunately for me, the rest of my body kept falling. After I hit the pavemen and came to my six-year old senses, I looked down, and to my surprise, my the inside of my right arm had a rather large gash right down the middle of it. Now, 4 inches is not a whole lot on an adult arm, but on a six year old, it is quite imposing. I didn't cry, nor did I scream, but simply walked up to the local yard duty and silently showed her my arm. She, of couse, freaked out and sent me (with an escort buddy) to the Health Office. The bandaged me up and sent me on my way. My mom discovered my wound the next day (for some reason I was scared to show it to her, as if I would be punished for accidentally causing myself injury), and was a bit ticked at the school for not phoning her. Apparently I could have gotten stitches and the scar would have been quite a bit smaller.
So that's the story. I meant for a flower to give to a pretty girl, and all I got was a lousy scar.
Our elementary school playground had two tanbark play areas. One area had the fort-type structure, complete with slides and ladders and all that good stuff little kids seem to eat up. The other little 'tanbark island' had a jungle gym and swings. These two tanbark sections were connected over the blacktop concrete by a small wooden bridge. The bridge had arm rails on each side. It should also be noted that our elementary school was adjacent to several backyards from a neighboring group of houses, separated by both a wooden and a chainlink fence. Some of the trees from these backyards could be seen hanging slightly into our playground. Most of the tree branches were too high to reach. Most.
There was a girl in my kindergarten class that I absolutely adored. She had caught my eye from the beginning of the school year, and I was determined to show her my affection. I didn't really have a way with words back then (I hardly even have one now, when it comes to the ladies), so I decided to go with something simple and symbolic: I would pick her a flower. One of the aforementioned trees hung quite close to where the blacktop-spanning bridge had been built. By climbing atop the wooden bridge's left railing, I could reach up and pick a flower from one of the tree's branches. Or so I thought.
I climbed up onto the old bridge's railing, and reached my hand out to grab a flower. It was just barely out of reach, so I leaned, and leaned, and leaned...
And plumetted. My arm caught itself on the chainlink fence, but unfortunately for me, the rest of my body kept falling. After I hit the pavemen and came to my six-year old senses, I looked down, and to my surprise, my the inside of my right arm had a rather large gash right down the middle of it. Now, 4 inches is not a whole lot on an adult arm, but on a six year old, it is quite imposing. I didn't cry, nor did I scream, but simply walked up to the local yard duty and silently showed her my arm. She, of couse, freaked out and sent me (with an escort buddy) to the Health Office. The bandaged me up and sent me on my way. My mom discovered my wound the next day (for some reason I was scared to show it to her, as if I would be punished for accidentally causing myself injury), and was a bit ticked at the school for not phoning her. Apparently I could have gotten stitches and the scar would have been quite a bit smaller.
So that's the story. I meant for a flower to give to a pretty girl, and all I got was a lousy scar.
