It seemed like a good decision at the time. We were 8 years old. We didn’t want to wake Alyson’s sleeping dad. That made perfect sense to me. So, I walked home – five blocks – crying and clutching my arm.
I got home and my mom sprang into action. She supported my arm with a curled up magazine and then my parents took me to the emergency room. A broken arm – the result of falling off a swing set.
Forty two years later (42!!) I was back in touch with Alyson and she apologized for sending me home with a broken arm. She has felt bad for 42 years! I didn’t feel bad at all – the arm healed up nicely and it was a pretty funny story. I’m glad we got back in touch so we cleared that up!