By America Lopez
I have a scar on my arm about three inches long that reminds me everyday of why I should listen to my mother. When parents try to give you advice or even give you rules, trust me they have a reasoning behind it.
When I was just a baby second grader, my brother and I would measure our worth through who was the champion of tag. My home in Santa Barbara had an attic that had an opening to the roof. It was a sanctuary during tag, there were so many enormous things to hide behind.
One afternoon, I was hiding behind the trunk that held my grandmothers wedding gown. I was certain that my brother wouldn’t find me here, the trunk was the perfect size to hide my body while I was in the fetal position. I was giggling to myself, thinking about how clever I must be to hide in a spot my brother couldn’t possibly find.
Suddenly, I heard a creaking to my east, the floorboards were warning me of my impending discovery. I made the decision to bolt onto the roof, thinking my brother was too afraid to follow me onto the roof.
Of course, I was wrong. He scurried onto the roof and smiled at me menacingly. I started backing up towards the edge. I knew I was about to be caught, so I looked over the edge of the roof. It wasn’t that far of a drop. I remembered my mom warning us not to play on the roof. “Te vas a matar haciendo eso (you’ll kill yourself doing that).” But, she didn’t understand. I was not going to be below my brother and the loser of our tag wars. I took a deep breath and I jumped.
Free falling seems to last forever, even if it only was about six seconds. I landed half on the grass and half cement, elbow first. I felt the searing pain in my arm and knew it was broken. Like the six year old I was, I started wailing at the top of my lungs. I had never been in that much pain.
My mother seems to teleport to my side, a thing common with mothers protecting or soothing their children. She lectured me half-heartedly, but sympathized with the intense pain my small body was in. She took me to the hospital and I went immediately into surgery. I remember the rainbow cap and toy rabbit they gave to me, trying to make me feel more at home. They put the anesthesia mask over my mouth and told me to count done from ten. I was out by seven.
After surgery, I was in bed for a month, the result of a broken arm and bruised ribs. It was an absolutely miserable time, interlaced with Spongebob marathons. The pain that came from breathing is something I can still remember clearly. I would not have been in that situation if I had listened to my mother.
Proverbs 1:8-9 reads, “Hear, my son, your father’s instruction, and forsake not your mother’s teaching, for they are a graceful garland for your head and pendants for your neck.” Sometimes it seems that your parents tell you things just to ruin your fun, but they’ve been through childhood and hardships and they know the outcome of wrong decisions. As crazy as they may seem sometimes, they know best.