Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Remember that time I died?

Okay...I didn't. Obviously. But SOME naive youngsters thought I did. It all started with an innocent turn on the tire swing when I was about 11 or 12.

Oh yeah, we had a tire swing on the farm. I might have failed to mention that previously. Here is a picture to prove it.

That is Everett swinging on there. Unfortunately I don't have a better picture but it was probably about 30 feet from the ground to the branch. That is important later in the story.

Tim, my step-dad, was pushing me, and I was trying to grab some leaves from the tree. I was getting so close. My fingers brushed the cool green leaves, I knew that with the next swing I would get a leaf. I would be the first in my family to do so...what can I say, I set my goals high (stop laughing!).

I swung in an arc and leaned to reach, I was so close...

..just a little farther...

..I let go.

And plummeted 30 feet to the ground. I landed flat on my back, I think I may have been unconscious for a little while (maybe a minute at most). Tim was leaning over me asking if I was alright, but the air had been knocked out of my lungs so I did was gasp, and probably cry.

Everett and Ashley took off to find my Mom, and somehow on the way to the barn she was in the story evolved a little.

Bekah fell off the tire swing!

Bekah is hurt!

Bekah broke her neck!

Bekah is dead!!!

No mother should ever hear those words. You can imagine the panicked dash to find me after my Mother heard the news of my untimely death.

By the time she made it to me, I was already sitting up. She cuddled me for a minute, then told Tim to never ever ever ever send Everett or Ashley in an emergency again. You might remember Everett prematurely sounding the alarm in my snake bite incident. Yeah, he just wasn't reliable in a stress situation. Please feel free to read the post below to get a better idea of the person my baby brother has become.

I was fine, my arm was a little sore, but I still had to go to dreaded Camp Pamadeva the next day. Oh, how I despised camp...but that is another story for another day.

And that, children, is the story of how I died.

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