Lia's Memoir

  __** “Oops! I did it again!” **__  Two mishap memoirs by Lia

  __// Break a Leg (. . . Foot?) //__

“Bye dad!” I called, as I quickly grasped the strap on my lavender shaded dance bag and flung it on my shoulder. “Lia, come on!” My mom persuaded, trying to lead me out the door. If we didn’t hurry up and leave, I was going to be late to my weekly, two-hour dance class. “Good luck, Lia,” my dad’s violin students’ mother, Maggie Loiza, encouraged. They were at our house for their weekly music lesson. “Break a leg!” My dark, brown, high ponytail whipped around as I turned and smiled back. I hadn’t realised that I had forgotten about saying goodbye to the Loizas; I was in such a hurry.“Thanks! See you later. Bye Alex and Stefany.” My mom nodded her head towards the door as I raced out of the house. I looked both ways before crossing the street, then darted towards our old, white, beat up car. My flimsy sandals slapped against the pavement as I ran. The car door moaned as I opened it, and I slid into the warm seats, crisp from the sun’s heat. I then quickly reached for the handle to the car door. As soon as I slammed the door shut, I knew what I had done. “AHH-OOOO! MOMMM!!!” I yelped in pain, as the fear struck through me. I had closed the door on my foot! I closed my eyes for a moment, then reluctantly focused my glance on my foot, expecting the outcome to be worse than the actual pain. The front part of my foot looked as if it had disappeared out the other end of the door. My toes were fully exposed; though of course I couldn’t see them at the moment, as they remained their placement, held hostage by the clutches of the creases in the door. T had picked the wrong day to be wearing flip-flops. “LIA! What’s wrong!” my mother screamed back, with concern and fear, twice as much as mine. “MY- MY- MY FOOOOOT!” I cried out. “It’s stuck in the door!!!!!” My mom raced to the other side of the car and yanked the door open. I felt only the slightest of relief as my foot was released. Because, soon enough, the numbness was leaving and being replaced with an intense sting. I glanced up at my mom. Is this what they meant by break a leg? In my case, it was break a foot. Or at least injure one. Who knew these sayings could have some truth? Maggie would sure be surprised. 

 === __// Track Tripping //__ ===

I leaped into my room and dove toward my sapphire rollie chair, the color resembling the royal, vast, sky. I swirled in it gleefully, gazing at the warm, radiant afternoon sunlight, as it shown through my windows’ exposure, illuminating my bedroom, which eliminated the need to flick the light switch and brighten my room any further. My eyes darted back and forth, then focussed on the ray of light reflecting off a cluster of medal objects. I descended from my tattered “throne” and made my way towards the reflecting items. A smile spread across my face; the shiny objects were medals of mine. Precious memories stored in the form of tinted bronze, silver, and gold disks, packaged with importance, worthiness. Medals of honor regarding the most practiced awards in Elementary School, the Golden Key String Festival, the X-Country GMC’s, and the 1st place indigo silky ribbon for the 6th grade. I giggled reluctantly, and shook my head as the memories of sorrow, pain, and surprise flushed back of the race following the girls’ mile at that one track meet in 6th grade; last year. Before I knew it, the time fled back at full force, as if I was mentally pulled within the recollection I was being brought back to. I waited, butterflies flying through my stomach, as I latched eye contact with the official in the red jacket. I stood there; trembling with anticipation and nervousness. I bent my knees, and crouched into position, my thoughts, counting the seconds before- SHWEET! the woman had blown the whistle, and everyone was off like a pack of hungry wolves. My mind was completely void; even the way I ran and the concentration I withheld, seemed to be coming from some inside force, or just pure instinct. Of course, the intentions of my instinct were the same as my thoughts had been before the whistle; to win the race, or at least come first on my grade level, as I had in the last race. I kept a steady, medium pace. My coach, Ms. Yuhas, had told me in the past, not to race at full speed on the first of the two laps. If I did, then I would fall back on the last lap and wouldn’t have any energy left. From my peripheral vision, I saw a girl pass me, then another one.  //I’ll catch up to them later; they’re going to fast and will run out of energy on the last lap,// my subconscious mind seemed to comfort me. I adjusted to the curve of the track and rounded the bend, my feet picking up speed as we neared the finish line for our second lap. The anticipation grew as I edged closer. the sweat starting to pour down my face, my eyes and ears only hearing the breaths of one another and the rhythm of sneakers’ contraction on the rubbery, stone track surface. My eyes lit up a little, as I saw the yellow line moving closer, or as  //I// was moving closer. Though before I knew it, the world was spinning, and the ground becoming closer to my face and body. It was only then, that my ears actually reactivated, listening to the scream of my own voice. In natural reflex, my hands sprang up in front of me trying to break my fall. Though, that only made it worse. “OWWW!!!” I sobbed, realizing what had occurred. Somehow, as I was running, I had tripped and fell on the track. I couldn’t move my left wrist, and I had trouble lifting myself up. Luckily, a nurse, Ms. Yuhas, my parents, and many others fled the scene, as they helped me get together my barrings. What about the race? I thought. But, it turned out that that was the least of my worries. I would later find out the results of my injury turned to be a wrist fracture, and I would be in a cast for about a month. Looking forward to the next year of track and hoping to make a comeback, I would be disappointed to the action of the school board cutting the undefeated girls cross country/track team. But, the memories would not be left be left behind; they would stay in my mind, even if they weren’t remembered in the best of circumstances.