Life is like a never ending story, each event leading to the next. Our decisions and mistakes of the past shape what we become in the future.Jodi Picoult once said“Everyone thinks you make mistakes when you’re young. But I don’t think we make any fewer when we’re grown up.”
Part one: The Foolish Little Kid
I think we all have those childhood stories that our Moms seem to tell everyone over and over again. For me, one of those stories starts with a game of pretend with my older sister Helen. We were in the kitchen of our old house, making up games like usual , this time we were playing beauty shop. I went first, taking the scissors and pretending to cut Helen’s hair. I made little sniping noises,but was careful to hold the scissors a safe distance away from her head. Then, it was Helen’s turn. I sat in the chair and patiently waited for her to finish. Only problem was, somehow Helen didn’t understand that we were only pretending. She stood behind me, concentrating with each snip of the scissors as I sas by oblivious to my falling hair. My golden brown locks, that had once fallen down my back in long waves, were cut into little uneven strands that barely went down to my chin.. It looked like someone had taken a weedwacker to the back of my head. I looked around myself at the strands of hair on the floor and began to wail. My Mom rushed into the room and stared at my haircut in shock.
“Why did you let her do that!” she asked me.
“I didn’t,” I yelled back. “It was only supposed to be pretend.”
My Mom ended up having to plan an emergency hair appointment for me the next day
Looking back on it, I have no idea why I trusted my sister anywhere near me with scissors. She had given herself at least three at home haircuts in the years previous, and was always cutting the hair off all of our Barbies.
Part two: The Hospital Visits
When I was younger, I was always kind of a reckless little kid. I was constantly falling off my bike and getting scraped up or jumping off things. One day, we were all at my Cousin Erin’s new apartment. I was about five years old at the time and my cousin’s apartment had this glossy, slippery hardwood floors. Like usual, my sister Helen and I came up with a game to play. We slid around on the floor in our socks, gliding across like ice skaters. It was all fun and games at first, but then I slipped and fell, crashing to the ground straight on my face. When I got up my sister gasped and screamed for my mom the come quick. My bottom lip was split open and a small stream of blood flowed out. My Mom panicked, like any parent would, and decided to take me to the hospital. I sat in the back seat of the car ,clutching my pink teddy bear, and looking out the window the whole way there. I ended up needing a few stitches that day, but other than that I was completely fine. Now after that incident you would think that I would have been a bit more careful, but that was not the case. About a week later, I was playing in my sister’s room and decided that it would be a good idea to jump off the top bunk of her bed. I had done it thousands of times before that. Leaping from the top as if I was jumping off the top of a building, the rush of adrenaline filling my little body as I made it to the bottom unharmed. To a five year old, it felt like the bravest thing I could have done. This particular night, I was wearing one of those oversized sleep shirts that went all the way down to my knees when I stood up. I climbed up to the top bunk and looked down over the entire room. I jumped off, falling down towards the ground, until suddenly my shirt got stuck on the top of the bunk, leaving me dangling and squirming around to break free. I panicked and kicked my legs around, until finally it gave with a loud rip.I went crashing down to the floor landing hard on one of my wrists. The pain shot through my wrist like a bolt of lightning and I let out a sob. My mom rushed into the room and panicked when she saw me. That night, we ended up making another trip to the emergency room, where my wrist was x-rayed. Turned out that I had broken my wrist only a week after my first visit.
Part 3: The Ice
This one is a bit more recent. It all started last January, when my friend Emily’s parents were going to be out of town. Like any teenagers, we decided it would be a fun idea to all get together and hang out at Emily’s house The roads leading up to Emily’s house are not exactly the safest. They curve and turn at sharp angles and in places have steep inclines that look almost impossible to climb. There was bad weather forecasted for the entire night, but my friend Miranda and I managed to make it to Emily’s before the storm hit. At about eight o’clock, we decided that it would be a good idea to all go out and get some food. We all piled into two different cars and headed down the mountain like hill, sure that nothing bad was going to happen to us. While we where eating, freezing rain started pouring down from the sky like a waterfall, covering the road in a thin, glossy layer of ice. We all realized that driving was going to be difficult, so we headed back. We didn’t really run into any problems until we finally made it to the bottom of the massive hill that leads up to Emily’s neighborhood. Our little Honda steadily rose up the hill, slowly climbing closer and closer to the top. At about the halfway point, the car suddenly stopped. Our wheels turned and turned, but the car wouldn’t move. We tried to back up and go again, but all came to the realization that we were not going to make it up that hill in one piece. We parked our car, and decided to walk the five miles to Emily’s in freezing rain. Climbing that hill was not easy. We slid across the ice like an air hockey puck, slipping with almost every step. Just as we thought we were going to have to hike the whole thing, a man pulled up in a truck with his daughter.
“Do you need a ride?” he yells out to all nine of us from the window.
We pondered the idea for a minute, knowing that it is never a good idea to accept a ride from a random man that we had never seen before. Then, decided that we wouldn’t make it back if we didn’t accept it.
We all piled into the back of the old pickup truck and headed up the hills. Even the truck struggled, as it slowly climbed the hills. After a long scary ride, we all finally made it back to Emily’s in one piece. It was a series of bad ideas, but everything turned out alright in the end.
Part 4: Finally Getting it Right
After years of making mistakes I finally have started to figure it out. Making mistakes is inevitable and I don’t think that I can ever avoid it all together, but I like to think things get easier with experience.