My Little Memory

Growing up I was the first girl in my family in thirty five years and the youngest of three brothers. We grew up on a dirt road out of city limits; I guess my mom figured we could not get into trouble out in the country. Boy was she wrong! I was totally spoiled and pretty much a tomboy, my childhood was crazy there was always something going on like rough housing, fighting and crying. Being the youngest I was picked on a lot and most of the time I was the one crying. My youngest brother Dusty was seven years older than me and we fought like cats and dogs constantly. My older brothers Willie and Hotrod were fifth teen and seventeen years older than me.
One of my first vivid memories was when I was around five years old. It was super bowl weekend I remember my older brothers were gathered around the TV. Dusty was chopping wood in our back yard with his friend Taz. Taz was our closest neighbor and the only kid that shared our bus stop. Dusty and his friend were taking turns chopping the same log his friend had an axe and my brother had a machete. His friend Taz would swing the axe and my brother would swing his machete I watched them do this for what felt like a long time. Until my brothers machete got stuck in the log and he went down to pull it out with both hands. Right when he went down to use his other hand, Taz came down with the axe cutting my brother pointer finger off.

 I remember my brother not crying at first but running into the house to tell my mom. Next thing I remember is the ride to the emergency room, and now my brother was turning pale and crying in the front seat. I remember Dusty holding his hand with a red rag wrapped around it but, now looking back I am guessing the rag was red because it was soaked in blood. I remember thinking to myself that I was kind of happy dusty was the one hurting. The shoe was on the other foot now he was the one crying and screaming not me! The doctors were able to save his finger and attach it back to his hand. He had a pretty nasty scar he also, had to learn how to write with his other hand.

 Now that I look back I feel horrible that I felt some sort of joy behind my brother getting his finger cut off. But I did! Maybe it might be a reflection on how my brothers treated me when I was younger who knows? Now that we are older we laugh about all the fights and crazy accidents over the years. I know we all grew up in what seemed like a zoo but, I would not have it any other way. Growing up in a big family with three older brothers felt like it really sucked when I was younger, but as I get older I am starting to realize how lucky I might be.

 

 <---(At the bus stop)
(Me & Dusty)--->