The Fall: A Personal Memoir

by Thursday, April 23, 2009

It was the first time that I was alone with no one around me. I was two at the time, smiling and carefree as always. I ran around the big house in search of an adventure. My mother was busy cooking and she had asked me to go watch TV, but it was not interesting. I sat on a bench in the balcony of the second floor; I watched puffy clouds roll by. It was then that I heard a small tap. Surprised, I glanced around; a small squirrel looked at me. It was standing on the balcony railing. I stood still, amazed at the little creature. The object it was tapping was a big nut. It tapped it again against the railing.

I laughed, but I scared it away. Hoping to see where it went, I climbed on top of the balcony railing balancing with all my might. I remember the shocks and terrified shrikes, but at that moment I was enjoying the wind that rushed through me. There was a clothes line in front of me and within my grasp. I grabbed, and held it tight, as more shrieks began. I didn’t know why the people yelled in horror, but I wanted to see, if maybe, they were yelling because of the squirrel. I leaned further out from the railing. My feet were barely on it any longer.

The wind pushed me further out, and it was only my hands that kept me from falling. As this story has been told to me many times, from different perspectives, they all have one similarity. In the few seconds before the clothesline snapped, I smiled like I never had before. They even say that, as I fell, it was a miracle that I was not scared. I let out no yell, I just watched. The clothesline was still in my grasp. As I pulled it down with me, it began to tie me up. The line twirled around my small figure, tightening as I fell. It swung me further from the people below me. It swung me towards a large monument made out of cement.

I was unconscious for a couple of days. When I awoke, my family was around me. They smiled in content and began their stories. Some are much exaggerated than others, though I must admit that I should have died that very day sixteen years ago. I had a cracked skull and some broken ribs, but somehow that clothesline saved my life. Even if it scarred my body as it dug deep into my skin. But here I stand today, a few scars here and there and very much alive.

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