For my writing group submission, I was stumped so I searched extensively for a prompt which motivated me to write. I chose this one: Do you have a vivid early childhood memory? Describe it using the five senses:  touch, sight, hearing, smell and taste. 

One Christmas, my brother, Larry and I, received bikes. Mine was the little Sting-Ray model for girls 5 to 7. According to the 1968 Schwinn catalog it had "Compact electro-forged frame, Junior Sting-Ray handlebars, chrome plated fenders, comfortable Junior Sting-Ray saddle with struts, Schwinn tubular rims, Schwinn regular middleweight front and Slik rear tires." Wow right? It came in two colors: Violet or sky blue. I chose "purple" (what little kid knows the color violet?).   The Lil' Chik, with a coaster brake, cost my parents $46.95. That bike opened up a world of freedom. We rode everywhere.

My parents were walkers. Larry and I would head out on our bikes and our parents would stroll along after us. One fateful Fall day in 1969, when I was about 7, our parents were on one side of the multi-lane, and very busy Clairemont Mesa Blvd. while my brother and I road on the sidewalk on the opposite side. My big trick of the day was to coast down hills with my feet firmly planted on those cool Junior Sting-Ray handlebars. As we approached a busy shopping center drive way, a car was entering and a car was exiting. Instead of taking my feet down and applying my coaster brake, I turned into the street, seemingly to avoid running into a car. As it turned out, my actions made a car run into me. I have no recollection of the collision, but I do remember waking up on the other side of the street. My chin was firmly planted on the curb, while the rest of me was sprawled in the street. When I stood, blood was pouring from my split open chin and I was then on the same side of the boulevard as my strolling, and visibly shaken, parents. Somehow, I seem to remember that the car that hit me slowed, saw me get up and then drove off. Several senses were experienced at this moment. I heard the sound of my parents' cries. I will never forget the sight of my very favorite outfit, a grape colored sweater with matching corduroy bell bottoms, saturated  in blood, and the taste of my tears as they flowed freely.

A bystander, who saw it all happen, ran into the local liquor store, grabbed a roll of paper towels and since we were without a vehicle, offered to take my mom and me to the hospital. Once there, I watched as my chin was stitched up and I was then taken away for x rays. I remember it being frightening loud and me feeling very alone as they wouldn't let my mom come with me. Surprisingly, the doctors found nothing wrong and sent us home.
Since it was such a hectic afternoon, my parents let us eat cereal for dinner, a rarity in our household. I'll never forget it because our special treat cereal was Lucky Charms, they're "Magically Delicious" after all. The only problem was, I was in excruciating pain with each bite of marshallowy goodness the Charms offered. Something was wrong. I convinced my parents that I needed to be looked at again. A return visit to the hospital revealed a fracture in my jaw that was missed with the first round of x rays.

The solution for a jaw fracture, at least in the 60s, was wiring to promote healing. Wires and elastic bands keep one's  jaw closed and bite in place. This was surgery that required me to be anesthetized. The sleeping drug of choice was ether. I will never forget that smell and the mask being held over my face. It was incredibly traumatic. We use an aerosol ether to help start our snowblower and when I catch a whiff of the gas, I'm transported to that time almost 50 years ago. The power of the sense of smell to evoke memories is one of the most powerful and the scent of ether is one I will never, ever forget.

Having my mouth wired shut for six weeks allowed all of my senses to be experienced. For 42 days, my tongue was constantly being abused by wiring and rubberbands. I could not open my mouth wider than the width of a straw. This wouldn't have been so bad, but all of this happened right before Thanksgiving and my family wasn't going to give up their holiday food traditions simply because I couldn't eat any of it. Turkey, mashed potatoes, stuffing and pumpkin pie were not nearly as tasty when liquified in a blender.

Even the sense of sound was affected by the surgery.  Prior to the accident, I was given a speaking part in our school's winter show. Picture a seven year old me, up on stage in front of the entire school, holding a microphone and earnestly trying to get my lines out through tightly clenched teeth.  A ventriloquist I am not. I have to applaud my teacher for believing that "the show must go on". I'm certain I would have been devastated, even more that I already was, by having that part taken away from me.

I can remember so much of that day and the six weeks that followed. It is a part of my childhood that has defined me somehow. At times, I'm still that girl on the little Sting-Ray bike, cruising downhill. Only now, I have another sense... common sense that allows me to take my feet off the handlebars and put my coaster brake on and stay safe.