"It happened somewhere in my youth.
"I'm inclined to think it befell somewhere seemingly around kindergarten, and I mean that quite literally. In the span of my sister's three years, she'd developed this aptitude for being considerably persistent. Thus, when she discovered her hat on my coat hanger, she meant business. Now, let me give you some background so you can fully understand this next moment.
"The coat hanger was this huge piece of wood painted yellow with some designs of sorts carved out. There were three hooks protruding from it, each one holding a considerable amount of coats, much more than too much. My sister proceeded to pull on one of the longer and more noticeably heavier coats. This induced the coat hanger to fall, and I can remember a sharp pain down the ridge of my nose but not quite feeling it.
"I just stood there — not in terror or in pain. I didn't want to describe it as shock either, but I didn't see much else to describe it as. I wouldn't have cried if it wouldn't have been for my sister's shrieks causing my parents to run into the room. There was a chorus of 'What's wrong?' and 'Why are you yelling?' It made sense that they didn't look at me first, in light of the fact that I wasn't the one in a panic. I assumed that my sister pointed or something, but I didn't truly remember what transitioned their attention from her to me.
"There was an ample amount of blood at this time streaming down my face. Still, I felt nothing, and it wasn't till my parents gasped that I actually started crying. Next thing I know I'm in my mother's bedroom, and she's telling me not to fall asleep. She's worried I have a concussion, but I didn't.
"That's about all I can remember. I'm sure we patched it up and all, but those details are beyond me. That's the only real recollection I have from living in America. In my memory, it's like we moved the next day, even though it was some time later."
The elder woman sitting next to me spared me a smile. "That's quite a story, deary." She then opened her newspaper again.
The thought that she wouldn't remember my story started swimming through my head. It made me sad because the memory meant a lot to me. It didn't to her, though, and I guess I couldn't make it.
"Why are you moving back to America if that's all you have to go off of?" She's still looking at her newspaper, but it gave me relief that she wasn't entirely uninterested.
I looked at the planes and spoke to her. "To be honest to myself, I'm just bored and need some fresh air."
She laughed. "Why can't you get fresh air here?" It was a question that deserved to be asked.
"I'm smothered by my family and the fresh air here doesn't feel nice on my lungs as it used to. I think a change of scenery will help."
She held a smile on her face. "Or you need to get a job and move out of their house." She continued to argue good points, "Or that, and I guess in a sense I'm doing that, but to a more extreme extent.."
We talked some after that, but my flight was soon called, and I waved her goodbye and boarded my plane. I touched my nose and felt the scar the coat hanger had left and smiled to myself. Though it caused some trouble years ago, it also gave me a feeling of comfort now.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All resemblance to actual people, places, things, or incidents is purely coincidental.
