Stephen King’s childhood life seemed to be very exciting and the way he wrote it allowed me to picture the scenes with ease. For example, King talking about how the taxi driver threatened to stop the car if king didn’t stop talking and kick them out really allowed me to see what was going on and helped relate me to the times when I wouldn’t stop talking or just being loud and my mom always threatened to turn the car around. King fighting with the doctor and nurses made me think of myself as a child and soing anything to get away from the needle for a shot.
The first memory I can remember is when I was about 2 years old and living in my old house. I was sitting on the concrete front porch, watching a family of ducks walk down the street. The further they got away from me the more i had to lean forward to see around the big evergreen tree in my front yard.
All of the sudden I leaned too far and my head like a delicate vase falling off a table and onto the floor and knees hit the concrete really hard. I remember it feeling like a really bad rug burn but all over my body and seeing blood drip down right in front of my eyes like the cracks that would cover a side of the vase. I remember looking down at my knees that were, at the time, covered in blood and dripping down my shins and onto the concrete.
The next thing I remember was my neighbor, who was across the street watering her plants, calling for my mom, who was taking care of my then baby brother. I looked up again and saw my mom, my dad, and many of my neighbors surrounding me to see what had happened. They all must have heard my screams of pain.
I didn’t go to the hospital, my parents just took me into the bathroom and wiped off all of the blood with washclothes. I was left with some nasty scrapes and bruises. I felt really cool because I had a bunch of bandages all over my face like the broken glass kept together with glue and legs and it looked like I was just in a fight.
I remember being really sore for a couple days maybe even a week. At the time my preferred method of sitting was on my knees and everytime i tried to do that i screamed in pain because of my terribly bruised knees. The bruises also really hurt when I tried to sleep and the sheet layed on top of my knees.
To remind me of what happened an ugly scar remains on my right knee, everytime I look down, I can picture a two year old lost in a squadron of ducks falling down. In addition to the scar on my knee i was left with a mark on my tooth that finally faded away sophomore year very much like a chip left in the now fixed vase.