"Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new." - A. Einstein. Describe your most interesting mistake.
Invincible. I always used to think of myself in this way, probably because I did not know any better. My parents however, were well aware that I was not even remotely close to being invincible, and that's why they tied me down with so many rules as a child. If I had understood this justification on their behalf nine years ago, perhaps my memory of my ninth birthday would be less unpleasant.
During a lifeless weekday years ago when I was in the fifth standard, my sister and I sat on the cold brick steps of our front porch and pondered over what to do. For me, that day was what my mom referred to as a "coma day" that everyone occasionally suffers from because it was so boring you could swear it caused physical pain. Considering it was my birthday, I expected a fun day at Chuck E. Cheese or outside playing miniature golf. Instead my parents were both busy at work and I had two long hours of nothingness to kill (look forward to). As my sister ranted on about cleaning our room before my mom got a chance to scream at us, my attention was held elsewhere. I remember looking past her and staring at the monkey bars in the park across the street. Despite it being so nearby, I rarely went to the park because a busy main road was in my way. Going there by myself was always off-limits and my dad made that very clear. Well aware of the momentous trouble I would most likely end up in, I convinced my sister to go with me anyway. After all, it was only one street and the plan was to be back before anyone had a chance to find out. My sister darted off as I lagged behind her on my neon purple bicycle. In my futile attempt to keep up with her, I completely forgot to stop and look for cars before crossing the road. All of a sudden my ears filled with the deafening sound of car horns. I instinctively peddled with all my strength while looking over my right shoulder towards the vehicle that had almost flattened me. Before I even got a chance to draw my attention forward again, my bike slammed into the curb with such force that it caused me to flip over the handle bars and onto the gravel. Most likely due to the fact that I wasn't wearing a helmet, I don't even remember how I got back indoors.
As expected, my dad unleashed his fury when he came home to find me scraped up and sore. Thankfully, the worst of my injuries was a deep gash on my left elbow, but he made the situation seem much more morbid than that. He did not hide the fact that in spite of his countless warnings and safety lectures, I still made the mistake of disobeying him. What is most interesting about this mistake though, is that it never left me. The scar on my arm serves as a constant reminder of the cost of ignoring the wisdom in the many years my parents have over me. It has kept me from repeating that mistake by putting myself into another foolish situation. My memory of that lapse of judgment from my past has kept me from away from other potential dangers, and will continue to do so even after the scar fades.
During a lifeless weekday years ago, when I was in the fifth standard, my sister and I sat on the cold brick steps of our front porch and pondered over what to do. For me, that day was what my mom referred to as a "coma day" when everyone occasionally suffers because it was so boring that it caused physical pain .
