Blog 8: Draft #1

Nothing is worse than not realizing that there is something underneath this thing called skin that looks like fresh turkey meat but it’s called tissue, but you don’t wipe your nose with it, and then some liquid coming out of it that seeps out to slow, but way too fast for comprehension, and you have to sop it up like thanksgiving bread on gravy, all in 8.5 seconds.

School was as ordinary as it was any other day. I had the same teacher that I had in the third grade that I did in the second. “How is everyone doing this morning?” That’s what Mrs. Barnett would ask us every morning. I don’t quite remember if any of the other kids responded, probably because they didn’t; but I always did. “Fine!” I would say. We would hand in the homework that we brought home the night before and begin new work. I remember the red apple sticker she would put on our papers if we did well that matched her deep burgundy nail polish on her pretty nails. Lunch time came and went and I always had my lunch brought from home while I looked over and wished I could have some of Simone’s lunch that she got to buy from school. That was usually on Friday when the school brought pizza from pizza hut. Recess came and we would run outside like there was a fire and we had to get out. We played outside like wild animals. There were no rules on the playground. Some kids hogged the swings the whole time, others played on the one set of monkey bars we had, and some kids just ran wild until the school bell rang. When it was time to come back in, we would drag like the fire we just got out of had burnt down our house and we didn’t want to return. The rest of the day went fast. Mrs. Barnett told us what our assignments were that we were to bring back the next day and then she would let us talk for the rest of the time until our parents came. By that time my mom would be getting off work to wait for me at home when I got off the bus. But this day was different. My mom had to meet up with my teacher and I was anxious to go home. The time went by slow, but finally when I saw my mom’s head pop out of the classroom, and I knew it was time to go, I dashed out the back door. The ground was to fast and big under my small feet; I missed a step and fell straight to the ground. The steps were concrete and my skin wasn’t strong enough to stay in one piece. The sun was much brighter on the right side of my face now. My eyed zoomed in microscopically at skin that wasn’t there. It looked like a clean white sheet with tiny little blocks. But it wasn’t clean anymore when this red stuff started to take over the white. It was all so slow but it seemed like the red sea was taking over my knee. I looked up at the sky and could barely seem my mom because my thoughts made my sight blurry and the sun was in my face. I cried, “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” My mom came to my rescue and realized that I got my first cut on my body. After that my world was no longer the same. I now knew that there are things there that we can’t see. This was the start of whole new way of thinking.

 This is all too humorous now, but extremities and dramatized surprising endings seemed to be my destiny. Things like this didn’t end at the age of eight. Now that I look back at it, I can pick it apart like a scientist.