On a crisp fall day, the air was consumed with the scent of Great-Grandma’s creamy, pumpkin spice pie. I sat on my great-grandparents’ grassy, green carpet in their living room watching The Price is Right with my great-grandpa, Popo. During the commercial break, I informed Popo about the amusing trip I experienced that past weekend with my Grandma Clemens and my cousins. I explained how my grandma took us to the Ringling Brothers Circus. I, only six at the time, couldn’t hold back any detail, so I squirmed with excitement and shouted out all of the bits and pieces I could recollect from the circus. “There were clowns, elephants, oh and there were lions; oh and, Popo, you wouldn’t believe what some people did,” I jabbered with great enthusiasm. By this time The Price is Right, his absolute favorite TV show, appeared back on the screen of the ancient, dusty television set. I continued to babble; however, I don’t think Popo minded that I chatted on and on because he grinned and with excitement in his voice asked, “What did some people do?”

“They swung from the ceiling,” I blurted, “while clowns rolled on glossy, red barrels underneath them!”

“Well, how about that,” Popo chirped.

Instead of continuing the conversation, I rested there as silently as a fallen feather for a minute or two, thinking. Popo knew that I held something mischievous up my sleeve because he chuckled and asked, “What are you daydreaming about, Kaylee?” I stopped staring at the Boy Scout popcorn tin, flashed him a quick smirk, rocketed over and picked the popcorn scented tin up, and raced back over to Popo’s La-Z-Boy. Hoping Great-Grandma wouldn’t overhear it, I whispered my plan to him. Popo always loved to have fun, so it did not come as a surprise when he, without a stutter, agreed to my plan and laid the popcorn tin on the hideous, green carpet.

Grasping my hand with his soft, wrinkly hands, he balanced my feet on the cold surface of the popcorn tin. I, an independent little girl, wiggled my hand free from his and tried to balance on my own, like the well-rehearsed clowns did at the circus. Before I could even blink my eyes twice, my entire fifty-pound body crashed to the ground, much unlike the well-rehearsed circus clowns. Great-Grandma must have heard the thud my body made when it hit the carpet because into the living room she raced. I lay on the floor, like a shattered vase, sending out high-pitched shrieks in between the sobs while Ring Master Popo knelt done beside me and reassured me I was ok. Unable to believe him, I screamed out in pain as I witnessed my arm become an overinflated balloon.

Ring Master Popo swooped me up from the hard ground and placed me on the couch while Great-Grandma handed me a closely packed bag of ice and a warm oatmeal cookie to help calm me down. While I whimpered, she scolded Popo, “I can’t believe you would let her do something so careless!” I, still crying, couldn’t help but think about the excruciating pain I experienced. It felt as though a loaded semi-truck had crept over my arm numerous times. To make matters even worse, Great-Grandma must have thought my arm hadn’t broken because she had me move it back and forth, which was almost unbearable.

Managing to fall asleep, I woke later that day to the sound of my mother’s soothing voice. On the way home, I explained to her what had happened, even though I’m sure my great-grandparents had already told her the story. Instead of acting concerned, she just assured me I needed some quality sleep, and I’d wake up feeling less broken in the morning.

When I awoke in the morning, my hot, swollen arm throbbed in pain.  As soon as she saw my swollen arm, my mother decided to take me to the doctor.

  Upon arriving at the heavily disinfected doctor’s office, Dr. Underwood confirmed my right arm was broken. I was devastated but more so because I received a purple cast instead of a pink one. After my shattered arm was wrapped tightly in the unfavorable purple material, my mother drove me over to my great-grandparents’. When we arrived at their house, I went straight to Popo’s La-Z-Boy and showed him my purple cast. He looked up from his crossword puzzle and let out a slight chuckle. I climbed onto the armrest next to Ring Master Popo so he could sign the broken clown’s cast.