Falling #1

July 7, 2000.

I was the new girl on the block, not that anyone noticed. I was five years old at the time, just moved from a small town into a big city. From a place where everyone knew each other to a place where no one cared who you were.

Being the child I was, I was no help to my stressed out and tired parents when it came to unpacking. Just a bother.

“Just go to the park across the street, okay? Be safe and come home in an hour or two. Mom and dad will be setting up your room.” Mom told me with a small smile as she wiped the sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

I was a shy child, but an obedient and well behaved, one. I didn’t want to go to the park at all. It was big, unfamiliar, loud, and crowded. I didn’t feel safe. I didn’t know how to approach other kids and ask if I could join them.

I sat down on the large red park bench, after struggling to climb up. I watched the children chase each other around the playground, laughing and screaming. I kicked my dangling legs back and forth, secretly wanting to join them. I twiddled my chubby fingers as I looked on in envy.

That was when I noticed the swing set. A seat was free! I quickly hopped off of the bench and ran for it. I loved swings, like any other child. But in that moment, the swing set was also the perfect spot for me to play by myself. I knew how to swing myself, I didn’t need to ask anyone to help me.

Unfortunately for me, I tripped. I winced as my little body hit the ground. The fall didn’t hurt, but I had scraped my knee. I sat up, examining my wound. I bit my lip, knowing I would have to find some way to explain this to my mother later. I love my mother, don’t get me wrong, but she was scary when she was angry. But it wasn’t easy to get her mad. And that’s what dad told me he loved so much about her. That she was hard to anger but when she was mad, she was quite a beautiful force of chaos. I never understood why that was an endearing trait.

She hated when people looked down on her (She exploded into a fit of rage when my grandmother told her she wasn’t capable of moving into a new city and surviving.)

She hated when my father came home smelling like cigarettes (She threw away his lighters and forced  him to sleep on the couch for a week.)

And unfortunately, she hated when I got hurt or when my safety was in danger. (She cried when I almost got hit by a car when I was three for carelessly running out into the road when she wasn’t looking. She wouldn’t let me out of her sight for weeks.)

“You fell because your shoe laces were untied.” A matter-of-fact voice told me. I looked up and stared at the boy in confusion. He just smiled at me, showing off his missing tooth.

He bent down and grabbed my foot. He pulled it towards him and began to tie it for me. My heart thumped, it wasn’t attraction-no I was too young for that, but I was touched.

“There you go,” he said with a triumphant smile, “You won’t fall anymore!” He stood up and brushed off his pants before extending an arm out for me to take.

I shyly placed my hand into his and he pulled me up with a bit of effort. He was only maybe two inches taller then me but he reached up and ruffled my hair anyways. I blushed and immediately threw my hands up to smooth down my hair.

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