The Moth: SCARS

Memory is a funny thing, and early childhood memories in particular. I vividly remember falling out of a moving car at age four, but if my parents and relatives hadn't later recountedto me what they remember most from that fateful day, I wouldn't be able to give you a firsthand account of one of the most monumental events of my pre-school years. Even though the grownups in my life helped flesh out and give shape to my own spotty memories from that time, I can tell my version of the story in a way no one else can because, after all, I'm the one with the (mainly emotional) scars to prove it.

I was in my pajamas and on my way to the gas station with my dad. Mom was home bathing my little sister and making last-minute preparations for our flight to California later that evening. The gas station was just up the road, so Dad let me sit in the front seat of our forest-green two-door Chevy Impala. This was a Very Big Deal. Naturally, I had to check out all of the fun Front Seat Things that I could not access from my little brown booster seat with the reddish-orange harness in back where I was usually confined (which, as it turns out, was for good reason). Fun things like air vents, the glove compartment, and the door handle.

So many moving parts... I let my imagination run wild! I was moving the door handle back and forth, pretending to ring a bell, and I remember thinking that, since it was such a big handle, it was probably for a really big bell. So I grabbed it with both hands and pulled, and the heavy passenger side door swung open, and for the briefest of moments, I was flying.

And then I fell.

I tumbled out of the car onto the gravelly cinders on the shoulder of the frontage road just as my dad had slowed to make a left turn into the gas station. I later learned that he jumped out of the car so fast that he almost forgot to put it in park. I don't remember being scooped up off the side of the road or being presented (bloodied and crying) to my hysterical mother back home, but apparently I was given my second bath of the evening as mom took stock of my wounds. They must have looked pretty superficial, as my parents decided it best to bandage up my knee (so I wouldn't bloody my fresh pair of PJs, as it might alarm the stewardesses) and off we went on the red-eye to California.

The next thing I remember is the smell of bleach and tongue depressors as we entered the hospital in Berkley. My uncle had driven me and my mom there so I could get my knee checked out, because it was stiff from the flight and it was hard for me to walk. I guess the doctors were confused as to how a toddler who fell out a car in Illinois had wound up in a California hospital the next day, so mom tried to explain our unusual predicament. But you know how, sometimes, the more you try to explain something, the worse it winds up sounding? That must have been what happened, because the doctors went from confused to suspicious and started asking more questions, which prompted my uncle to emphatically interject "I'm not the father!" into the conversation every few minutes or so, which likely didn't help.

Eventually, though, the doctors were satisfied with her explanation of my injuries (which turned out not to be serious) and we were allowed to leave. After he finished wrapping my knee in an Ace bandage, the doctor-- in what I'm sure was meant to be an attempt to cheer me up-- offered me a ride out to the car in an actual wheelchair! Instead, I got scared by mention of the wheelchair-- I had seen one on the way in. The man who was sitting in it was glumly eating greyish-green peas from a tray of food that had been set before him. Of course, I took this to mean that eating yucky peas was a prerequisite for riding in a wheelchair, and instead opted to have my uncle (who is not my father) carry me out to the car.

Thankfully, children are reslilient by design. During this tenuous time of learning right from wrong and discovering the consequences of certain actions, maybe it's best that kids are quick to forget. After all, if we remembered every bad choice and stupid mistake we ever made, in full detail, we'd likely all be scarred for life!