When I was in the second grade, I broke my leg. My family had gone on our annual skiing trip to Massanutten, a ski resort nestled in the mountains of Virginia. We had a week full of laughs in freezing temperatures, and were sad that it was about to come to an end.
As a typical kid who didn’t want to leave, I convinced my mom to take one more trip down an advanced ski slope called Geronimo. Reluctantly, she agreed. We strapped our skis back on, rode the lift up the mountain, and looked down upon the end of our vacation. Only, it didn’t end quite the way we thought it would.
Right over the first hill, I hit a patch of ice and went down, landing flat on my stomach. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, not that I fell often, but often enough to not think the pain I was experiencing was anything to be concerned about– and that’s when I heard my mom scream. I looked back over my shoulder at her, and that’s when I saw it. My foot. On backwards. Ski still attached.
A spiral fracture of the left tibia. We spent the end of our vacation in a hospital, and I spent the next 6 months in various itchy casts.
I never went skiing again.
“Oh my God, Jenny. That was almost 30 years ago. Get over it!”
I can’t. Seeing your leg on backwards changes you. I don’t even like snow anymore.
Have you ever had a moment that colors the rest of your life? You don’t realize it at the time, but something so small can shift everything you do from that moment forward.
There was a time I ate my mom’s special recipe sweet potato pie. It was the most delicious thing I’d ever eaten. I looked forward to it every year, and even begged her to bake it throughout the year just so I could have it. And then, one fateful day, I had about six servings and caught the stomach flu. I spent the next eight hours barfing up my beloved sweet potato pie and never ate it again. I can’t. My body physically will not allow even a bite to pass my lips because of fear of yacking it back up– even though the barfing had nothing to do with what I ate.
It didn’t stop as I went from childhood to adulthood, either. Experiences are still coloring how I live my life, the decisions I make, the things that I do and don’t do.
Like kids. Had 2 of those. Definitely won’t do that again. Live and learn, I guess.
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@BrentWalshITM Your show in RVA is the first time considering taking one of my minis to a rock show and I figured you'd know better than any- safe for a 10 yr old or wait a few years? He loves y'all but I don't think he can handle a thrashing
My kids do this funny thing where they give me all kinds of attitude in the morning while forgetting I have access to their toothbrushes while they're at school.
It really doesn't have to be a battle, I promise. holdinholden.com/2015/02/to-t…