She broke her wrist when she was seven. She always refused to be left behind, always tried her best to keep up with her brothers. If that meant bloody knees and bruises from a soccer game, she would lace on her cleats. If that meant hours of board games she barely understood, she would try her best to invade Siberia. If that meant climbing the tallest tree in the park, she would haul herself up branch by branch, even though she needed a lift from her brother to reach the lowest one.
But this day, her little hand couldn’t wrap all the way around that tree limb, and she fell. It felt like flying, at first.
And then she landed and she heard the snap.
Bones break. Wrist, ankle, collarbone. She acquired a laundry list of fractures over the years, mostly due to the adventures her brothers instigated and her stubborn belief that she could do anything.
She was used to bones breaking. She’d mastered the ability to bite her lip and keep the tears from falling. She kept a stash of sharpies in her backpack and doodled on her cast when she was bored. She could deal with bones breaking. They heal, after all, right on schedule.
But hearts break, too.
And she had no experience with that.
sometimes I play around with fiction. I blame certain twitter friends for that. to learn more about my 31 days series, that’s here. today’s word comes to us from Beth. to give me a one-word prompt, tweet it @hannahboning or drop it in the comments.