Jared's Memoir

Jared's final assignment for English this semester was to write a memoir. Specifically, he was supposed to describe an experience that he's had in which he felt some sort of strong emotion. Luckily for him, the strong emotion he felt in this case was GUILT. He may have also felt the strong sting of my hand smacking him upside his head.

Memoir

The beautiful, but torrid sun was spread across the plain. Nothing could escape its fiery eye, for it could see everything. It was an unquenchable bonfire, its radiant beams scorching my skin. All I could do to keep from heat exhaustion was to stay inside and drown my body with water. It was the only way to fight the fire. This was supposed to be a fun family vacation but it was turning into an ordeal to just sit and try and save ourselves from melting under the intense heat. My mother’s naggings to go out and play were ignored. The sun had consumed all of our energy from swimming in my grandparent’s pool. Unfortunately, since we had no energy left, we were too tired to argue with my mom and consented to her cruel bidding.

“Come on guys, hurry up!” my little sister yelled to us. She was energized and hyper as if she had just downed three Red Bulls into her little 5 year-old body. She had energy to spare and was growing impatient with our slow and staggered movements. We decided to walk to a nearby park. It was only about a ten minute walk from my grandparent’s house and my mom would not be able to complain of our laziness if we played at a park for a bit. As we walked, the fire immediately began to make me feel as if I just stepped into an oven. It probably didn’t help that I was wearing black shorts and a black t-shirt. When we arrived at the park I spotted a gazebo just outside the woodchips where the play structure was. I told my siblings I was going to go sit under it while they played. My little brother followed me, then my 8 year-old sister, but my youngest sister was already bolting towards the playground. The shade the gazebo provided felt amazing, but now I had another problem to deal with: boredom.

As I sat there a twisted idea came to mind, but it sounded entertaining. I hollered to my sister, “Hey Adana! Go down the slide. I want to see how fast you can go.” I swear I saw the sun grin at me. It was encouraging the cruel suggestion I made to my sister. I knew that sliding down that plastic, swirly slide was probably as stupid as keeping your hand on a stove top. I was surprised it hadn’t melted yet. But, my sister was excited to slide for me. She loved to please others. She clambered up a short rock wall in her cute polka-dot dress and stood on the platform before the slide and waved to me. I waved back. Then she swung herself down the slide. I have never heard a more blood curdling scream. Halfway down the slide she threw herself over the edge. She landed face first on to the crispy woodchips. Her screams were evolving into an intense cry now. She was cradling her leg when I got to her. As I looked closer, I saw that all the way from her ankle to her upper thigh was bright red, scalded. I realized I had to get her home to put ointment or whatever the stuff is on her burn. I picked her up and put her on my back. I kept hoisting her up my back, trying to avoid touching the tender skin on her legs but also keep from dropping her. As I walked up the street with her on my back, I noticed my other two siblings were gone. They probably ran ahead to tattle-tell on me. Then that got me thinking about what I was going to tell my mom. Would I say, “Hey mom, I just tricked you daughter into sliding down a fiery slide of doom to watch her cry”?

We finally reached home and my mom said nothing. She just took my sister into the kitchen and I thought it would be better if I just sat outside, contemplating my tyrannical and selfish action. As I sat on that searing, hot patio I thought of the scar the horrible burn would form. I thought about how that scar would forever remind me of the day I was friends with the fire in order to betray my little sister’s love for me.