Personal Narrative Draft- The Slingshot

The Slingshot

There I sat in the corner of the room, crying. I knew it. My life was over.

“She told me not to. She told me not to,” I repeated over and over in my little 10-year-old mind believing that this would somehow make everything better. I had always known that my mom was always right but this time I really knew it.

Only hours before, I was sitting at the granite kitchen countertop eating my lunch as mom rushed out the door. I was sure she had some very important motherly business to attend to.

“I am free,” I thought. That was, until she came rushing back in.

“Steven, make sure you don’t go outside while I’m gone,” she said with a concerned look that only a mother could pull off.

“Why?” I asked, as does every normal little kid. I didn’t say anything more but in my mind that really seemed like a ridiculous request. It was so nice outside.

“I don’t know why.  Just make sure you don’t go outside,” she replied this time with a little more earnestness.

“But mom why?” I said, pressing the issue a little more. “I won’t leave the yard.”

“Steven I honestly don’t know why but I just have a feeling something will happen if you leave the house and go outside. Maybe it has to do with one of the neighbors…” she said, her words trailing off as she glanced outside.

This time I knew she meant it. There was something in her voice that last time that I couldn’t quite put my finger. But I started to have a feeling too. “I won’t go outside mom. I promise.” I mean, after all, I didn’t want something bad to happen to me while she was gone. I had a life to live.

“I trust you,” she said as she kissed me on the head and rushed out the door.

I was free again but not quite as much as I was before because now I couldn’t go outside. So I watched TV for a little while and then went up to my room to play with a couple new toys I had just gotten. One of them was a brand new slingshot that my uncle had helped me make. This wasn’t just any slingshot. It was one I had made out of a branch I found and hadn’t really used it much yet.

I walked around the house, my mind preoccupied with things I was pretending to shoot when all of a sudden there he was. I could see him just outside the window on the side of our house.

I ran to the back door, opened it, and made my way to the side of the house, not forgetting to pick up a few perfectly shaped rocks on the way. As I rounded the corner there he was, in the exact place I had seen him just moments ago. A real live red robin. It was almost as if he was waiting for me, daring me to try my new slingshot out. So I grabbed my first pebble and aimed. This was my first shot of the day.

Zhoom, it went, flying way over him landing somewhere in the grass a ways off.  He was gone. That was my one and only chance and now it was gone in the blink of eye. So I wandered around the outside of the house for a few minutes looking for any other things I could shoot for practice when, I saw him again. This time he was on the porch at the top of the few stairs that lead into the house. I was given a second chance so I had better make it worth it. I had to get him this time. So I pulled out my last little rock. It was an especially good one, nice and round, perfect for accuracy. I loaded it. Pulled back. And released…

Zhoom… Crash!

The sound of shattering glass filled the air and what I saw was even worse. It was my front door. This wasn’t just your regular door with a small window. Almost the full thing was glass, beautiful etched glass. Not even all the money I had could begin to pay for that door. So I resorted to my next best option.

I cried. The truth is that my little 10-year-old mind couldn’t think of anything else to do but hide and cry. Just as I began to realize the magnitude of what had just happened it intensified. I realized the promise I had also made with mom. She had told me not to go outside but I did anyway. It was an honest mistake. I just plain forgot in all the excitement of being able to use my new slingshot.

“Stupid, stupid slingshot. I hate you!” Thinking that it was somehow the slingshot’s fault. I threw my slingshot at the fence as I ran inside. At this point all I could do was wait. I knew that I had not only disobeyed mom, but now the front door was completely shattered. I was doomed. My life was over. I was sure the next time I would see the light of day was when I was old enough to leave the house for good.

As I sat in the corner, crying, in walked dad. I remembered earlier that day he said he was going to come pick me up and we would do something fun, but this was sure to change everything. He was sure to have seen the door as he drove in.

He walked directly over and sat down next to me. “I’m sorry dad. I’m really, really sorry. I didn’t mean to. ” I wasn’t even able to look up at him. I just waited in silence for the stern reply.

“How about a round of golf,” he said.

“But… but… what about the door? What about mom?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Did he not realize what I had just done?

“You worry about getting ready for golf and I’ll worry about mom. ”

Years later I read a quote that explained what I did not understand that day, “A problem that can be fixed with money is not a real problem.” 

I still had to work, however, to help pay for the door.