My husband had read my blog post recently, where I mention jumping out of a window when I was a child. He inquired about it last night, and I decided I owe it to my blog fans (I believe there are 20 of you) that I clarify and go into more detail about this incident.
First off, something you need to know about me: I don’t take kindly to being told “can’t”. Or “no”. Or “don’t”. This isn’t a recent event, it’s been ongoing since I was in diapers. Ask my father about the countless times I’d go into a rage and completely destroy my bedroom because he made me upset. I’d always felt like an adult trapped inside a tiny body- which is odd, because there are times now where I feel like a child trapped inside a grown up’s body. Total reversal. If someone tells me I can’t do something, or it’s not allowed, I find a way it IS allowed.
I was nearly 4 when my mother told me I had to take a nap one afternoon. I didn’t want to. I had friends playing outside, underneath my window, which was two stories up. We lived in an apartment community, and had only been built with the two floors. Here is a picture of the community:
At that time, our windows faced a playground, with sand surrounding it. My mother had left me alone in my room to sleep, but I wandered over to my bedroom window, and looked longingly outside. There was no air conditioning in our apartment. In Oregon, that’s not uncommon, even now. My window was fully open, and I looked outside, and a few of my friends saw me. “Sara! Come out and play!” I shook my head no, knowing my mother would never let me off the hook with the whole nap thing. They kept goading me. “Come on! Come play!”
My late grandpa had built an old school desk, similar to this:
It was low to the ground, with two small chairs that went with it. I scooted the desk over to my bedroom window. I climbed up onto the desk, and looked down. It looked far, but it didn’t look THAT far. I don’t know what possessed me to jump. Looking back, I can’t believe I did such a thing, because I am terrified of heights. I jumped right out. The colors flashed before my eyes as I plummeted down to the ground below me. I wasn’t scared.
I landed Elvis Presley style, like this:
Only, it was on my left knee, and my hands were up higher. And I wasn’t serenading my friends. I felt searing pain shoot up from my knee to my whole left side of my body. I collapsed onto my left side, and I started to panic. Was I going to get into trouble? What if my mother finds me? I didn’t realize what I did was plain stupid. I only knew that I wasn’t napping, and I could get in big trouble for that. I found some bushes along the side of the building, and I decided to slide over to them, and hide. No one would see me there!
Some time went by, and I was talking with my friends from time to time, still lying on my left side, favoring my knee.
I decided to glance up at my bedroom window. My mother’s head was poking out of it. She looked terrified. Beyond terrified.
“SARA!?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?!?”
I didn’t know what to say. So I just smiled at her and waved. “Hi Mommy!”
Her head disappeared. Moments later, an ambulance was at our community. Moments after that, my father was there. I don’t remember riding in the ambulance. I’m not sure if I did. I remember being looked over at the hospital, and being told I had a bruised knee. And that was it. Nothing broken. I got lucky.
The only negative impact from that day was my knee now, years later. It constantly pops. And when I run, it’s the first thing on my body to start throbbing and get angry.
And I’m certain that the bigger impact will be when Nolan is a little older; I can already see some of my personality within him, and you can bet that we will be sure to keep windows CLOSED and LOCKED.
What’s that expression? Payback is a bitch?