When a baby is born, that first breath of air hits them like a bus. Crying is a good sign for a newborn but if they don't cry, something must be wrong. Not knowing what to expect because they have no way to fully think straight but at that moment God's creation has just become a real living thing. As we get older when people see us cry they immediately assume something is wrong but if you're not crying they can't tell if something is wrong. Having such a long life ahead on one hand but then on the other, each stage of life is like taking a closer step to death. Can't say much about that stage of my life considering I can't remember but the next stages are more interesting.

 11 years ago, the first time I understood the concept of death. I was a 5-year-old girl skipping my way through a crowd of grieving people. “Why is everybody crying?” my cousin says, looking around, skipping beside me. I look around wondering about that too. “I know right, we're not going to be crying.” I say with a light chuckle. She nods at me with a grin. Bouncing towards our mother's arms as they cry over our grandmother's lifeless body. It seemed as though we were there to comfort them but suddenly they were comforting us. The statement previously said about not crying disappeared immediately once we looked at her and then at each other. We didn't even understand why we were crying but it finally set in that we would never get to see her again. A cold shiver went down my spine as I noticed her body is technically put in a box-like casket and that she was going underground. Constant smiles and random money with candy on the side, all gone in the blink of an eye. All of the memories resurface when we realized she was never coming back. Little did I know my training wheels would never come back either soon enough. 

9 years ago was the first time I rode a bike, I was 8, and everyone else I knew already was riding their bikes everywhere. I begged mom to teach me but she's a tough teacher. You fall, you get back up. You get hurt, cry about it another time and get back up. We went to the large playground at school with tall basketball hoops and 3 different sets. One red and blue one that everyone loved because it had all different leveled bars, One wooden one that was my favorite because it wasn't like the other crazy colorful ones, it was clam and gray because of the wood chips. Lastly was the playground that all the kindergartners always went on with monkey bars and a climbing wall. Mom would push me on the bike to get me going acting like peddling was so easy, every time she pushed I just immediately fell off after the handlebars would repeatedly push their way into my stomach feeling like I was getting punched in the gut. “I don't want to learn anymore,” I say. “Just because you are not amazing at something right away doesn't mean you just give up. You wanted to learn so you're learning.” I roll my eyes at her which I know is disrespectful but sometimes it feels necessary to express your emotions, rude or not. Eventually, she pushed me and I fell enough times for me to finally get some peddling in and then I couldn't stop. I wanted to peddle, pedal across the world, and feel the fresh air tickle my skin as I became out of breath from trying to get to my destinations fast. 

2 years later but 7 years ago, was the first time I broke a bone. Still pedaling fast, cold breezes brushing against my skin, hair flowing back like the commercials quickly turned into my fragile body slamming onto the rough concrete and the process of me trying to save myself. Tiny cuts up my arm and excruciating pain when I try to lift my fingers, I go to the closest door I know I will get help at. Trying not to cry, I knock on the tall brown door 3 times and soon hear footsteps creep closer to the door, out comes Mrs. Ryan, my favorite teacher. She puts ice on my wrist and then asks me “Who´s home to take care of you?” in a sweet voice. “My brother” I say whiny ish. He is 7 years older than me and never really watched me and my two other sisters. Usually, my sister would just take care of me and my younger sister because she was 5 years older than me. She puts me in the car and drives down the road to my house. She rings the doorbell and we can hear the bell singing throughout the house. My brother comes to the door with a concerned look on his face, ¨Hi, what's wrong?¨ he says, putting his focus onto me, holding my arm with ice on it. “Hi, sorry for this randomness but your sister fell off of her bike and could have broken her arm.” She says with a sweet and sympathetic smile. He thanks her for taking me back home and then calls mom. When she answers he tells her what happened. “Ice it and I'll check up on her when I get home from work.” I hear from the other end of the line. I look down at my wrist trying to move it because I always get hurt at gymnastics but it ends up being nothing. I ask myself if I'm being dramatic or not. I know my body and this feels different than those times but I have to perform in gymnastics in a week and grandma would be disappointed since she's been looking forward to it. I gravitate my thinking back to the present. I've always wanted to know what it felt like to have everyone come up to you and ask what happened or to sign your cast. The main attention I got was people telling me I laugh too much. The good kind of attention where people care for you is the kind I want. Not the kind where it makes me feel kind of bad about myself at the end of the day. I was thinking so much in my head that I hadn't realized my brother put a new bag of ice in my hand. The air of him whooshing his hand back and forth across my face trying to get my attention snapped me back into reality. “Lay down and try to sleep until mom gets home” he says as he walks back into the basement to what I assume is to go play whatever video game he's been playing for the past week. I lay on the couch praying the pain will just magically disappear and I will be back to normal. A single tear sheds from my left eye making a stream of salty water down my face so when I feel the air that particular part is chilled. I take all of the pain in and shut my eyes slowly. All the thoughts constantly rambling through my head all of a sudden disappear when I drift asleep. When I open my eyes my mother is sitting in the living room watching tv. “I think it's broken.” I say as she looks over at me. “We will wait until tomorrow to see if it still hurts before we make any major assumptions. It could be just sprained, She says underestimating the pain I'm in. “What do you want for dinner? You get to pick where we eat considering you got hurt.” She says trying to be more aware of the situation as we walk out of the house. The whole time driving to Panera she was asking me if I could move my fingers and my wrist like she was interrogating me. Even when we sit at the restaurant it's us trying to figure out how serious the problem is. The whole way home it was silent and just left me in my thoughts. I was still in pain but I tried not to complain about it so I wouldn't be called dramatic by my siblings or get rough-housed with them. I wanted to go home and go to bed. When I got into the house I went straight to my room to sleep because I had school the next day. As soon as I hit the bed my eyes shut and I forget about the pain in my arm. The loud ringing that comes from my alarm clock wakes me up. I move my arm fast forgetting about how painful it is just to snooze the whole morning. I let out a hiss from the pain, this is not going to be a good day. I got ready faster than a cheetah running after its prey and hopped on the bus hoping the day would go by fast so I could get back home. When I get to school I try to leave my arm alone so it doesn't hurt as much. In class, we were writing a story but I couldn't write with my good arm. I went up to the teacher to tell her I needed help. ¨Mrs. North, I hurt my arm badly and it might be broken, so can Kylie write what I need to say for me?¨. ¨If your arm was seriously broken, your mom would have taken you to the hospital by now.¨ She says with a snapback. I just look down and walk back to my seat. I have Kylie write for me anyway because I don't really have any other choice. The rest of the day goes by pretty fast but my arm still hurts so when I get home I call my mom to tell her I think I need to go get it checked out. “Okay I'll come home early to take you,'' she says, still a little bit skeptical. “Okay see you then” I say, hanging up. I sit and watch tv until she comes home. Once she gets there I run to the car to quickly find out what’s wrong with my arm. Driving to the hospital all I can think about are all of the what-ifs. What if it’s worse than a broken bone? What if I can’t do gymnastics again? What if grandma is let down after paying for all those gymnastics lessons? What if the bills are too expensive? Before I know it, we’re already getting out of the car to get into the hospital. When we got into the room the doctor said he was going to take some x-rays and then check back in with us. We waited and waited for what felt like forever just making bets on whether it was broken or sprained. She was so sure of it being sprained that she made me second guess myself. I look up at the ceilings that look just like my schools. It's cold and the bed is kind of hard. I couldn't imagine being someone who was regularly in the hospital. It's one of the only times i´ve ever actually been to the emergency room other than when I had my staples and stitches. The doctor seems to have found his way back to the room after getting lost because it had been 2 hours. The results came back with my radius bone broken and the ulna bone fractured. I looked at my mom and secretly felt satisfied with the fact that I was indeed not being dramatic. The doctor hands me a splint and sets a date to get a cast. When we get back into the car to go home, my mom calls my grandma to tell her the unfortunate news. My grandma isn’t upset but still, I felt bad. “Oh the expo next week, you're going to miss it.” she says with a dissatisfied tone. “I know I'm sorry I’ve been practicing for weeks now.” I say back in a genuine tone. “Okay well as long as your arm is getting better then you’ll be able to continue gymnastics after it heals.” “Yea and there’s always next year.” We say our goodbyes and eventually, I arrive back home. I go straight to sleep for the second night in a row just so I can wake up and walk into Mrs. North’s class confidently. Once again awakened by the louder than-needed ringtone of the alarm clock. I get ready slower today considering I have to be careful until I get the cast. When I get on the bus this time I wonder what people would think when they see me with a splint when they just saw me in perfect condition not long ago. I suppose quite a lot can happen in just a few hours. When I walk into class we have to continue writing but this time it was math. My right hand is my dominant hand and the broken arm is the right one. I go up to her and this time instead of telling me what I should have done, all she has to say today is “Oh”. That was the first time something of mine broke but indeed not the last.

6 years later but just a few months ago, was the first time I understood heartbreak. The most recent significant thing that happened in my life. So many feelings at once, there isn't just one way to describe it. That feeling where you know something is wrong but are too afraid of confronting the problem in case you get hurt. That feeling where you physically feel the pain that is all internal. That feeling where you realize a broken heart isn't just some myth made up to scare people. It's almost like I could feel my heart shatter and every second I release a breath, a new part of the heart falls farther and farther away. The family opened up to like him. I opened up to him. My friends all got closer to him. All for nothing and to just be strangers again. “Can we still be friends?” He says. I close my eyes to stop the tears from continuing but it only makes them fall faster. Great, just a life to live full of pretends. ¨Yes, of course, we were friends before we were together…so why wouldn't we be able to continue the friendship.¨ I type very unconvincingly on purpose. ¨This isn't going to be a forever thing¨ He says with his face not even in the camera also, very unconvincingly. The tears start falling as I shove my face into the fluffy white pillow I use for decoration. My cousin walks in right after it happens. I'm now sobbing with mascara running down my face while she stares at me trying to help me form words to explain. I put my face into the pillow once more just to scream the pain away. I lose myself in the process of trying to figure out what went wrong. Was I the problem? Did I not try enough to make him stay? Was I not good enough for him to stay? Constantly putting myself down all for nothing. It's not our fault that someone can't see how special we are. I look up from the now-soaked pillow at my cousin. She's..crying..too? ¨What's wrong?¨ I ask her wondering what she is so upset about. ¨I've never seen you so hurt over something like this, I never realized how much you cared, beating yourself up about someone who couldn't see what you were worth¨ She said back to me like my pain was projecting onto her. I started crying harder at the thought of someone else hurting purely by just looking at me hurt. It made me realize how much someone else can impact your emotions. Even if it has nothing to do with them.

Crying, just like newborn babies. But it doesn't mean we are healthy and alive. Now when we cry it's almost always because a piece of us has died on the inside. I can't tell whether it's good or bad anymore. We cry when we are in pain yet even when we are so elated we shed tears. My most significant memories are all of my firsts. When you do something a million times sure it could become some sort of tradition that has a significant meaning to you. But the first time something happens will always determine whether or not it's something worth doing again. That initial feeling will always make you feel more than any other time. Many deaths, bike rides, broken bones, and heartbreaks later, I´m still in one piece and better than ever.