Lessons and Nails The day began like any other. Slowly and gently, I begin to wake up, seeking refuge underneath my covers from the brightening sun. Giving up, I sit up in my loft bed, my hair an unruly jumble of curls. I notice that there’s already a considerable amount of light reflecting off the blanched walls. With the experience of a 9 year old, I can tell it’s already well into the morning. In addition, I can tell that something is off. There are many things that my home is not. It is not organized, the toys are not separated into their respective bins, and most of all, it is not quiet. And that is what made this particular morning odd. I didn’t hear the crying of my little brother, nor did I hear my sister watching TV. Our dear
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I only wear shoes when I absolutely have to, or when mom forces me to. I go out through the front door, and stay still for a moment. The air is slightly brisk, and judging from the muddy yet clean smell, it seems like it rained last night. Of course, it almost always rains at night. This is Oregon after all. Walking down the porch steps, my feet are met with dewy blades of grass. This is why I don’t wear shoes, I reason in my head. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to feel the supple grass between my toes. Or the solid feel of the cemented sidewalk. Turning the corner, I am met with the driveway. It’s not like the sidewalk, flat and even. Instead, it is a river of rocks that I have to venture across. Although, this is no problem for me. My feet are calloused enough from doing this everyday that I barely feel it. Or, at least that’s what I tell myself. Taking the first step on the gravel, I quickly mutter “stupid rock” under my …show more content…
Suddenly, pain shoots up my leg, and I shout, “Stupid rock!”. Although, after standing still for a few moments, I realize this is no rock. A sense of dread filled my head, and the subconscious part of me knew exactly what just punctured my foot. Cautiously lifting my leg, ignoring the burn, I see a blood stained nail, sticking straight up. Now knowing what I stepped on for sure, the pain in my foot becomes very real. The blood seems to rush out at a faster pace. I hastily hop across the remainder of the driveway, leaving a bloodstained trail of rocks behind
I only wear shoes when I absolutely have to, or when mom forces me to. I go out through the front door, and stay still for a moment. The air is slightly brisk, and judging from the muddy yet clean smell, it seems like it rained last night. Of course, it almost always rains at night. This is Oregon after all. Walking down the porch steps, my feet are met with dewy blades of grass. This is why I don’t wear shoes, I reason in my head. If I did, I wouldn’t be able to feel the supple grass between my toes. Or the solid feel of the cemented sidewalk. Turning the corner, I am met with the driveway. It’s not like the sidewalk, flat and even. Instead, it is a river of rocks that I have to venture across. Although, this is no problem for me. My feet are calloused enough from doing this everyday that I barely feel it. Or, at least that’s what I tell myself. Taking the first step on the gravel, I quickly mutter “stupid rock” under my …show more content…
Suddenly, pain shoots up my leg, and I shout, “Stupid rock!”. Although, after standing still for a few moments, I realize this is no rock. A sense of dread filled my head, and the subconscious part of me knew exactly what just punctured my foot. Cautiously lifting my leg, ignoring the burn, I see a blood stained nail, sticking straight up. Now knowing what I stepped on for sure, the pain in my foot becomes very real. The blood seems to rush out at a faster pace. I hastily hop across the remainder of the driveway, leaving a bloodstained trail of rocks behind