Ten years ago, when I was two, I was running around in the backyard. It was summer and the grass was bright green and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. “It is a nice day,” I thought. I decided to go on our stone patio. It looked like more fun than the grass at the time.

It was three steps up and I was just taller than it. We had glass table with an umbrella and four chairs. One chair was farther away than the rest so I ran around it. I was running and running for a long time around that chair. It was probably only two minutes, I was probably running for longer but I couldn’t tell. After all I was only two. (I don’t know why two year old constantly run around in circles, I was just doing it for no reason. It might be so that when grown ups come to pick them up they can run away.)

Eventually I started to get dizzy. But I didn’t care, I felt like I could run forever. Then I tripped and lost my footing. I stumbled right to the edge and fell off. I was wailing in pain because my knee hit the edge of the patio as I fell. It was unlike anything I had ever felt before.

My mom came running outside to me the second I hit the ground. “What happened?” My mom asked. “I was running and I fell off of that!” I cried. My mom carried me inside and bandaged the wound. After I had calmed down and had a large band-aid on my knee I learned to be more careful around hard surfaces, just in case I get hurt again.