Brother, Broken Arm, and Branding

Okay no branding, but welding in this earliest memory.

So this is how it went. I grew up in the Eighties. So I was left alone quite a bit. Maybe they were outside, or maybe my parents were up the hill and through the woods at the corral. Either way I was little, I know how little but I’ll save you from judging. 😉

My middle brother and I were at the house playing on this spring horse, think a rocking horse but on springs. We were probably fighting over who got to be on. I was on the horse, at this instant, and my brother stopped it by pushing it sideways. I fell onto the end of my bed, my right arm under me. Guess what broke?

Yep, my wittle arm. So I ran up the hill and through the woods to get to my parents who were building our corral. My dad was welding and my mom was painting it red. My brother ran the whole way behind me calling out, “don’t to tell mom”. I knew enough to stop and avert my eyes from the welding arc at least, even if I had the bad sense to tell mom about the broken arm.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I have a pretty varied past, it comes in handy when writing.

Interested in hearing more first memories? Follow the blog challenge link below and pick another blog at the bottom of the post. Happy reading!

And of course if you haven’t checked out Olivia, my debut novel, head on over to Amazon and get a sample. I promise it won’t disappoint.