People Bleed

People Bleed

by Robert S Strength

    My very first memory occurred when I was fairly young. It was the first thoughts that construct who I am, and therefore is the beginning of any story that is a story of me. I will tell it here in the hopes that my origin story will be far removed from the classical character's opening volumes, and interesting to you because. My memory was not happy, nor sad. I do not remember emotions from the time; only the stark images and the things I learned.

    I was crib-aged, and just tall enough to reach my arms over the edge. My crib sat by the window of the Boy's Room in our little home. At some point or another I woke up quietly in my crib. I must remind you that at this point my mind consisted of very little true intellect. I knew just enough about the world that I stood in my crib and shuffled to the end, where I could look out the window and view the backyard.

I do not remember how long I stood there looking at the things in the yard, but after a little while I saw my truck. I have had it confirmed from my Father that the truck was not mine, but in my little crib-life world it was mine, and so I tell it here. The truck was a treasure in my world. I knew that there were few things more important than my truck, and standing there at the window with that firmly taking up the forefront of my mind I realized that things outside got wet and would break. My dad had told me that.

    The panic that set into my mind was berserk and all alone. Losing my truck was all there was in my world. That thought came to me so suddenly that I could not remember not knowing it the moment before. I was going to lose my truck. Gone. Forever. It was as potent as anything in an adult's life. It was real fear and emotion. Today, your most important things are people. The thought of actually losing your son or daughter forever can paralyze you. It struck me with that same force when I was losing my truck.

    So what could I have done but what I did. I threw myself with all the power my tiny legs could muster into breaking down that window so that I could save my truck. I could see the wetness on the grass and I knew that any moment it would happen.

    The crib barely contained me and I threw my hands above my head and slammed them against the windows over and over. I had no idea then, or no memory of it now, but I was screaming. I was not wailing for attention or because I was awake, the way many children will. I was screaming in terror, and my parents could hear it.

    As they ran to the door they heard the distinct shatter of glass and the screaming stopped. I can only imagine how that sounds and silence must have crippled and hurried their charge to my bedroom.

    The moment that glass broke, I stopped. 

    There was a bright color across the glass. It was red, though I did not know the word then. I felt a sting on my hand and looked, and there the red was. It was sliding down my arm, and I realized it was coming out of me. It fell onto the mattress and the sheets and my legs. I was not afraid. The blood was a strange thing, but caused no alarm at all. I had forgotten my truck entirely by this point, and it was only many years later that my dad even learned the reasoning for my shattering of the window.

    I looked up as my Dad rushed through the door into my room, and he picked me up so fast and wrapped that arm up tight. He didn't let me look at it, and we went to the bathroom and washed the red away. It stung, which scared me a little, but before long I had a bandage and we were off to the doctor. I remember my Dad explaining blood along the way. It was confusing, but eventually I understood. I do not remember the doctor's office or the bandage I surely wore after. I don't even remember the day after or the months after that. I do remember my dad telling me that if you break a stuffed bear the stuffing comes out, and a car breaks and leaks oil, and a person breaks and you get blood. Bike tires leak, and people bleed.

    I will always remember that I started thinking in this world with a burst of desperation to save something I loved, and learning forever that people bleed.