The Thirty Year Anniversary

This photograph was taken exactly 30 years ago. I have no idea who that boy in the picture is, but I can tell you who the girl is. Me. At the ripe old age of four I was the flower girl in my sisters wedding. With that said:

Happy anniversary to my sister and brother in law! Thirty years strong, may there be many more!

This, however, is not the story of my sister’s wedding. I don’t even remember it. Ok, I vaguely remember curling up on a bench or booth seat or something, covered in someone’s jacket trying to sleep at the reception. And cream cheese mints. I think there were cream cheese mints.

The story I’m going to tell you takes place the day before this picture was taken. This is the day my mother changed my four year old life, at least for a few weeks. She denies it and gives me all the credit, but I assure you, my mother deserves full credit for this, and by the end of the story I’m sure you’ll agree with me. You better agree with me. I’m telling you, I’m right…

And so the story begins.

As well as my memory was at four, I’m positive this is exactly how this story took place. The day before my sisters wedding we were at the reception hall, which was some big room some place that had a lot of chairs and tables and things in it. See, four year old brains remember a lot.

Anyway, the adults told me a lot of things like rules and stuff. I don’t remember, it wasn’t important. There were a lot of chairs sitting around and that meant I had a brilliant jungle gym of folding chairs to climb on and pretend with. It was amazing. I had never been in a room with that many pretend mountains to climb.

After what seemed like an eternity of climbing and playing and being an all around awesome four year old, I leapt off a chair. I don’t remember why, but I’m sure I had a dang good reason. Most likely the culmination of a fantastic adventure filled with trials and tribulations. I should have written it down in my majestic scribble.

The thrill of the game pulsed through my veins as I flew through the air. The suspense built as I was about to, well, I don’t know what I was about to do, but jumping from chair to chair was exciting!

In an instant I landed and screamed with what I can only imagine was sharp excruciating pain. I didn’t know what happened, nor do I remember the exact emotions and feelings of that exact moment (give me a break, I was four), but I do know one thing, I was hurt and my mom didn’t catch me.

Turns out, I had a compound fracture in my left arm. Everyone came running to my aid, but my mom didn’t catch me. She’ll try to tell you that she told me not to jump, and that she was just across the room putting up decorations or some wedding reception stuff. No matter what her story, I’m sticking to what I said in the emergency room.

Mom didn’t catch me.

The results: the sleeve had to be ripped out of that cute little flower girl dress up there to make room for my cast.  Did you even notice the cast the first time you looked at that picture?

This battle between my mom and I has gone on for thirty years she claims she couldn’t have caught me, I swear up and down that she should have caught me. Either way, this battle has made a fun memory for us, even if I did have to get a cast. While I remember all of the important details, at least I forgot the pain. I suppose that’s a good thing.

That’s my role, always making my family’s life interesting and entertaining.

What do you think? You agree with me, right? Tell me in the comments.