The Broken Summer

For my ASL (American Sign Language) class, we were to create a story completely signed of our childhood. I decided to write about this experience, because it was extremely memorable, and shaped me into the person I am today.

One summer day I was at my favorite cousins house. At his house we played Nintendo 64, watched TV, and played with marble monster toys. After ate lunch, we decided to play outside. In his backyard, we played on his jungle Jim, and had a lot of fun. Finally, we decided to go on the swings and do tricks. “What trick can you do?” exclaimed my cousin. “ I can do the twist!” I shouted, as I was spinning round and round. Soon after, he was eager enough to pull a stunt that most 7 year olds were terrified to do. Jump of the swing. I have afraid to do so, not wanting to risk my fragile frame, and football playing. Without me having to tell him to get off, He jumped off the swing while in the air and fell right on his to feet. “Awesome!” shouted Javier who was breathing heavily and in a state of high. “Guess who’s next?” whispered Javy, “Your turn.” Without hesitation, I sat on the on the swing and was getting momentum until I realized it wasn’t worth it. You getting scared said Javier noticing that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to do it. Being the younger cousin I was determined to show him who was boss but at the same time not willing to risk my health. “Chicken!” Shouted Javy, laughing away on my pity. I was eager on telling him something mean but I was awestruck by his words. There I sit on the swing so lonely with no one to save me from the trap my cousin set and what the consequences would be that awaited me. I put the hands on the chains and became swaying. I felt tense, but at the same time feeling less and less scared per swing. I was traveling higher and higher so high I could feel the early august breeze that you cannot feel on the ground. I felt feeling of saying I didn’t want to do this, but I did not want to disappoint my cousin nor myself. Jump. There I was on the ground feeling a sensation that I had never felt before. Had I broken my arm? The thought soured through my head with lightning speed and became terrified. “AAAHHHHHHHHHH!” I screamed! I knew something bad happened to my arm so I told my cousin to run to his mother to get some help!” His mother a nurse did not know what to do, either in a state of shock or a feeling of disappointment for watching me during the week. In the house I told her all the information she would need to know for me to go the hospital, my pediatrician, my health office, and even the hospitals number. She was quite impressed with my bravery and resistance to pain. With few tears in my eyes, I told my cousin that it would be ok and it was an accident. As I was leaving the house, I told my cousin that I would never forgive him. 7 years later, he living in Panama, talk to each other frequently and talk to each other about that indescribable day. I don’t know what I would be like if that day did not include a broken arm, or how that broken arm would impact the rest of my life. With surgery, a cast, and a lot of love, I got better quickly and was happy to use my left arm again. The one I write with. Much was different the next summer where I once again broke my arm, but that’s another story.