This story has always been a vivid memory of mine, as it has left scars on my face. I want this story to reflect on how impulsive decisions usually do not end well. It should create a reason why you should always think things through before doing them.

The idea scurried in my mind. Bugging me every minute, scratching at my brain. Making me crazy. I sat there on my couch waiting for the day to pass. Luckily my mom never believed in summer school at a young age. This meant that school was irrelevant to a 4-year-old like me. I had all day to think of things to keep me busy, while my mom did busy work around the house. Finally, the idea of the stump was all I could think about. The stump was just outside in the front yard and acted as a jump to a kid. It was useless to a kid my age. Unless this 4-year-old owned a bike. This idea of jumping my bike off the stump felt so stupid… but so fun.

Finally convincing myself to at least observe the stump, I stepped outside. Slowly walking forward to oversee the hill which had the stump embedded in it. The stump sat there like an elephant, unmovable. Even though this stump seemed larger than normal it didn’t threaten me enough. My mind was set. I. Will. Jump.

Twisting my body 180 degrees I started to go in motion towards my garage. My bike sat there, training wheels recently being removed after intense bike training just weeks prior. Reaching the garage, I went to grab my bike: heavy as a boulder to someone my age, in reality weighing no more than 30 pounds. Slowly the wheels ticked in a forward motion, as my hands guided it towards the top of the hill that held the stump inside of it. My butt was now planted directly on the center of the seat. Now ready to take down the threatening stump.

The feet below me steadied on the pedals of the bike. One foot on the ground, the other ready to push off the ground. One last time I made sure everything was in check. Feet, pedals, chain, my feet, alignment to the stump. All ready. On the count of three, my mind shouted. One… Two… Three! My foot pushed off the ground, trying to gain the most thrust that I could achieve. The wind pushed against the weight of my body. At this point, nothing could stop me. My alignment to the stump was perfect and I was prepared for the landing. Nearing the stump that is now merely 3 feet in front of me. My feet and the pedals were in perfect coordination. My body slouched down, preparing for the jump that was going to occur. Lifting all the weight upwards, my tires reached off the ground. With the extra momentum towards the sky, I felt as though I was flying. Looking forward, I could only see the trees; looking down, I could see failure.

I quickly panicked attempting to do everything in my power to make my altitude lower. While in the air I also quickly learned that it was not possible. How’d I not think this through!? Afraid of my body smacking against my bike on impact, I quickly jumped off. My feet were now my best option. The ground was rushing me like a bull. My whole body scrunched up with my legs out; getting ready for impact. The ground came up on my feet and sent my body forward. Making my final resting position, stomach toward the ground and my limbs everywhere. I hadn’t heard my bike hit the ground yet. Before I could start my next though, Smack! The biked landed right on my back causing pain throughout my whole body, especially my legs.

I could already feel the river flow of tears approaching my eyes. I watered the grass as I lay there with the bike as my blanket. Too injured to want to get up. Too unmotivated to try. After bringing my tears to a stop, I decided to finally get the bike off and away. Slowly turning my knees and arms and curled up into a ball. Which then forced the bike to lose balance and fall right off. After curling into a ball, I could then manage to get to my hands and knees. Soon, with much force, I was on my feet brushing myself off. With still little tears coming down my cheek, I decided to attempt the climb of the hill.

On foot after the other, I climbed, and climbed, and climbed. I finally reached the peak. My knees ached to the point where I could not walk any longer. I began to fall to my knees. Slowly shuffling my knees forward, my body got to the front door. At the height of 3 and a half feet, I could barely reach the handle. I struggled on my tippy toes for minutes before I got the most little grip on the handle and shoved it down with all my force. The door swung open and my mom stared at me with disbelief. My face and body were covered in blood and scrapes. I just stared back. She then came over and examined my body as though I was some science experiment. Which shortly followed by bandages and neosporin to cover the wounds. The bike was unharmed from my body breaking its fall. The aches and pains continued but after days the bandages did their work to heal me. Still, scars mark my face, helping all my decisions down the road.