The day I broke my arm
The CWA (Country Women's association) in Melbourne, had a great group of flats that Country people could stay in for a minimal fee. Living in Donald- country Victoria. My parents took the opportunity to use them as often as they could.
Dad had left that morning to attend a conference, so mum was left in the flat with three children under four. I was the eldest. I thought I could multitask, I was wrong.
I remember the light shining in through the curtains making wonderful patterns on the dark wooden floor. The television was on, but it didn't interest me enough to capture all of my attention. There was a bar stool and a bean bag placed conveniently nearby. I clambered onto the stool and jumped off, successfully landing on the beanbag. I repeated the manoeuvre a couple of times. Pleased at my accuracy and the tiny butterflies the risk bought to my tummy. Momentarily distracted my mum didn't notice what I was doing.
Suddenly the meaning of the large bangs she was hearing became apparent and she carelessly said " Anna, stop doing that, you'll break your arm." I was teetering on the edge of the stool during her pronouncement. Momentarily distracted by the television I jumped, landing on the hard shiny wooden floor. When I got up my left arm was bent in an unnatural manner.
With my siblings, I was bundled into the car, I remember crying. Not because my arm hurt, but because despite my arm looking funny I was trying to impress upon my mum that it absolutely was not broken. Needless to say it was!
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