Unbalacing Rope

Breath is a simple necessity in life. If you have none, you’re defenseless.


Abrupt and frightening showed me their true definition on a wet summer morning. I was playing atop a rope tied to two levitated metal bars. Dew droplets stuck to the rope like jelly. A mouse squeaked faintly in the distance as I proceeded forward.                                     

Silly me, I wanted to try to balance on a jump rope with no assistance. As I let go of the bar that hung overhead, a gust of icy wind swept towards me. Not a single soul could have kept their balance.
 
I crashed to the ground with a thump. The alarming moment always happens in slow motion for me. My lungs seemed to disconnect, and a thick sheet of pain burned right through my chest. It still amazes me how quick my mother was at my side, her searching eyes shining.

I gulped for air, but nothing fed my lungs. My heart wouldn’t slow down; my brain wouldn’t clear, because all my strength was being pushed towards my lungs. Limp. That was all my figure was.

I still miss a heart beat whenever I trip. I never stop hanging onto my surroundings if I feel I might just lose them.