I’d tried all day to cry. I thought about all the bad things I could and still nothing.
It was a decent summer afternoon, perfect for bike riding with friends. I should have been reveling in the fact that I had no reason to cry.
Still, the delicate balancing act of tween hormones left me needing to cry on a day lacking the emotional turbulence to provide relief.
I stopped peddling and leaned hard to the right. Too hard. On purpose.
Fishing the gravel out of my leg as it bled finally gave me the reason I needed.
The challenge was to write an essay in 100 words or fewer about a time I fell. Challenge accepted.
Oof. So many layers. Well done.
Michelle, this was stunning. The story lies between the lines, and you’ve given us just enough to fill in the details for ourselves. Hugs to tween-aged you.
You couldn’t pay me enough to be a tween again. I was able to put myself in your shoes in this piece, but I had space for my own memories and feelings too.
This reminds me of how much I’ve missed your writing. So good. I think I still have gravel in my knee from falling off my bike (not on purpose) at age 5.
I can see this happening in slow motion right before my eyes. <3 You captured that sense of reaching for *something* really well.
You brought me right back to those teenage years, both my own and my daughters’. Picking the gravel out of your knee told us all we needed to know about the injury.