A Bruised Knee, Some Garlic, and a Little Saltwater

Originally published on July 27th, 2017

"Are you okay?" a voice called from above me. I quickly tried to stand up again while simultaneously pulling my jeans up higher and adjusting my jacket. "Oh, yeah I'm fine", I said, hobbling to the window of the Dutch Bros. "Are you sure?" the girl asked. Her face looked worried, but I tried to assure her I was okay while trying not to look at my knee or my side. I turned my back to the few cars in the drive through and texted my mom: "I fell. I'm okay but can you come get me?" She appeared what seemed to be out of nowhere, made sure I was okay, and I hobbled over to the car where I waited for her to return with coffee for the both of us. 

Once we were both back in the car, I recounted to her what had happened. After I walked from the gas station where she was filling up the car to the nearby Dutch Bros., I tripped over either a grate or my own feet (the latter seemed more probable), and suddenly I found myself lying on the ground beside a drive through. 

This was only 7:15 in the morning. 

We then proceeded to drive to the community garden that is connected to my grandparents' church. As an incoming high school senior, community service hours now seem like less of an "oh, I'll go on that one mission trip and then I'll weed something and call it a day" and more of an "I need 46 hours of weeding or I can't graduate" kind of a thing. While at the garden, I picked blackberries and dug up garlic and then my grandmother showed me and my mom around the center itself. I've never really been one for gardening, but the whole idea behind this one is pretty cool to me. 

Later that afternoon my grandfather took me and my mom to the swimming pool near their house. I hadn't been swimming in a really long time, almost a year in fact. I've mentioned this before, but I was actually on a swim team from 6th-8th grade, and I had the same teacher/coach from 3rd-8th grade. It was only five years, but those years have had a lasting impact. When we moved, I had trouble getting back into swimming even though we had a pool. I'm still not exactly sure as to why, but I think it had to do with the fact that I missed my teacher so much, and it felt weird to swim without her being around. Swimming again was really good for me to do, and I hope I can start doing it more and more. 

This was one day in my life, and although it wasn't typical, it made for a story to tell when I really had no idea what to write about.