sexta-feira, 27 de fevereiro de 2015

Story (childhood memory)

I remember I was about 6 years old when some friends of my parents came from the south of the country to visit us. They were two couples and they brought their children with them, four girls.
My sister and our friends’ daughters were in their early teens and although we could all have fun together, they kept reminding me that they were a bit more grown up than me.I would give my best not to stay behind, to follow them everywhere and to do whatever they did, but the task was a bit difficult, especially because being the youngest of the gang meant they would also sometimes spoil me as if I was some kind of baby doll.
Anyway, as I didn’t see them that often, I had been anticipating this meeting with high excitement and as soon as they arrived we went right to my bedroom to play. And you know how it works when kids are together-magic things start happening. I had this super noisy black electronic guitar toy that I lent to one of girls. She was rocking like a star, everybody was enjoying themselves, jumping , singing and going wild .  Suddenly “Bang!” In the middle of this chaotic fun, while I was joyfully dancing, that cursed fake guitar flew in my direction, hitting my head hard.
After a brief moment of shock I suddenly burst into tears. Well, as surprising as this may sound, she had cracked my skull and it didn’t take long between my cry for help and my parents taking me to hospital.
During the car travel everybody was calm except for me, who was frightened to death. I can still remember that my godfather happened to phone my parents when we were heading to hospital and my mother asked me if I wanted to speak with him. “No”, I answered. Come on, my head was broken and they were acting as if it wasn’t a big deal! I could die at any moment and they were asking me to say “hi”? How outrageous! I mean, it wasn’t my arm that was broken, it was my head, which meant anything could enter in there. I would probably go mad if some nasty microbes entered my brain. In addition to being worried about my future mental health, I was also unhappy about wasting the day in the hospital and losing the opportunity to be with my beloved friends.
Summing up, the whole situation seemed to me as complete tragedy! Fortunately for me at hospital they managed to sew my head quite fast. The nurse said she could see my brains through the hole, but I think he was kidding.
I later joined my friends at the shopping centre and we spent the afternoon there with our parents. At some point we rooted ourselves in Bershka, a clothing store. Some of the girls wanted to buy the latest fashion items, but the rest of us were more into having fun, so we decided to try and get as many clothes tags as possible, just because the illustrations were so pretty. I remember not being brave enough to take the tags from where they belonged - I just t tried to find the lost ones on the floor and picked them up instead.
By the end of the day we had a lot of tags and we exchanged them among ourselves, like trading cards collectors. We also copied a few drawings of the coolest illustrations. Over time, the wound in my head disappeared, but I kept the tags and the drawings we did that day.

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