Probably the most defining memory of that moment is the feeling of falling. The sudden shock of gravity pulling me off my friends bike and the blinding flash of light that dazed my vision as my head hit the concrete. I don't clearly remember the pain, but I can just imagine how much the crash must of hurt. What I'm describing to you, the reader, is my very first memory of real pain.

It all started at the age of 7, when I would walk down the street from my house to my friends house everyday in the Summer. My friends and I both lived on the same street, but the only difference is that my house was built up on a high hill. I would walk down that high hill everyday during the Summer and would ring on the doorbell repeatedly until someone would open the door for me. We would play for hours and hours until the sun went down and it was time o again walk up that high hill. Those memories are some of my fondest when thinking about that neighborhood.

Now, this particular day was like any other Summer day. The sun's rays would beat down on our exposed shoulders and our hands would stick to each other from melted popsicle juice. That day, my friends and I decided to ride our bikes up and down that high hill. I was a pretty reckless kid from what I can remember and would always have bandages stuck on my knees and elbows, so of course I didn't wear a helmet while riding my friends bike. When it came time to be my turn to ride down that high hill, I climb onto the seat and began to speed off as my friends ran by my sides. After mere seconds, I remember the youngest of my friends reaching under the bike seat and with all his strength, pulling back towards him with force. I was then thrown over the handlebars and flipped head first onto the concrete below.

At that point, my memory is far more fuzzy when compared to the moments before. I supposed it might have been the shock of my world suddenly being pulled from under me. I can somehow recall some of my friends staying with my twitching form as the adrenaline pumped through me and the others rushing up that high hill to get my mother. I remember my mother running to me, tears running down her face and a towel in hand. I couldn't even recognize her or the feel the blood pooling around my head. Just thinking about that now makes me shiver all over. I also vaguely remember afterwards doctor visits and needles pocking into the back of my head. That's when all memory of this incident truly fades away.

It has been a little bit over 9 years since I was pulled from that bike seat and the accident still hasn't left me both in my memories and physically. From the fall, a quarter sized piece of scarred skin is left on the left side of my head and hair no longer can grow on the spot. I feel as this incident has taught me something about how important safety is for your own well being, and the fact that I take better care of myself probably means that I really did learn something.