It Isn't Only Hearts That Break...

In my parents' yard is a delightful plum tree, many years old. It's stood there ever since I can remember; it was there when we bought the house, and there when my grandparents lived there, and it was probably there long before they ever moved in themselves (and my grandparents moved in some 35 years ago). Every spring it sends out little green leaves and sweet-smelling white blossoms, and every summer it yields a sizeable crop of delicious Italian plums (which my parents then try to foist off onto anyone they can, before all the fruit drops off the tree and ferments on the lawn, intoxicating all the squirrels for miles around).

When I was about seven or eight years old, this tree was one of my favorite haunts. I had a special perch in its branches, a special way of getting up, and a special way of getting down. My father even hung a couple of ropes from the branches, so that my sister and I could use them as swings of a sort. If the weather was good and I wanted to be outside, you could often find me there after school, enjoying the breezes and getting bugs in my hair. It's not a large tree by any means, but it was big enough at the time -- and since it was small, and on a hill, when I wanted to get down all I had to do was climb down to a lower branch and jump off, landing on all fours. Nothin' to it.

One day, I came home from a piano lesson, and went right up the tree before I'd even been inside the house. I hadn't even had the chance to change into some play clothes -- I was still wearing the little pink button-down blouse and little blue twill skirt that I'd worn to school that day. My mother claims that, as I clambered up the tree trunk, she hollered at me not to climb the tree wearing a skirt; but for the life of me I can't remember it. And anyway, what did I care? I just wanted to be up the tree. So up I climbed, heedless as any invincible eight-year-old might be.

Meanwhile, my mother went into the house with my younger sister, and started doing her evening routine -- fixing dinner and the like. A few minutes later, she called out the back door to find out where I was; and I just decided it was time to get out of the tree and come inside for awhile. So I made my way down to my usual branch, perched in the usual way, and jumped down as I usually did, preparing to land on all fours as per usual.

Unfortunately, as I leapt, my skirt got caught on a small stubby branch. And from that point on, gravity reminded me that it was the Universal Law, not to be disobeyed (even by invincible eight-year-olds). For a fraction of a second, I was caught by my skirt, my center of gravity thrown forward; and then the tree let go.

Instead of landing on all fours, I landed on my outstretched hands. My wrists, protesting against having to bear my full weight all of a sudden, flat-out broke. Both of them. Cleanly.

Oddly enough, it didn't hurt. I seem to remember having the wind knocked out of me some, and I remember that I did get a jolt from hitting the ground, and I did start crying -- but I don't think I was crying from pain so much as from an instinctual understanding that something was seriously wrong with my body right then. I didn't have any bones sticking out, no blood, nothing like that; I could still feel my fingers, and I think I could still move them. But I still knew, within seconds, that I needed to go in and see mom Right Now.

Clutching my arms to my chest, I raced inside. My mom took one look at my crooked arms, and called the doctor. My timing was impeccable -- the doctor's office was closing in five minutes. They could just squeeze us in as their last emergency of the day. And they did.

And, after a quick trip to the doc's office, a bunch of X-rays, a trip to the emergency room of the local children's hospital (which was right across the street from the clinic), and a whole lot of bone-setting and painkillers, everybody agreed that -- yup -- I had not one, but two broken arms. And boy, that was just going to suck.

Truth be told, it wasn't that great; but it wasn't that lousy, either. I was a great patient. I had to spend a night in the hospital for observation, and that made me sad because I wasn't with my parents; but when they set my bones and put the casts on me, I didn't cry or scream once. After I went home, I had two plaster casts. True, they were heavy and clunky; but they didn't actually go past my elbows, so I had pretty good use of my arms. I couldn't take a bath very easily, but I did get a lot of great artwork drawn on me, from all my family and friends. And I got a lot of attention. So it wasn't exceptionally fun, but it was certainly bearable. I had the most trouble with cabin fever, because it was the end of the school year, the weather was starting to improve, and I was stuck in the house for a number of weeks waiting for my arms to heal.

So don't jump out of a tree with a skirt on.