25 Days of Memories, Day 7

Sometimes I think about stories I need to share and then I forget when I actually start to write.  I need a better system to remember my memories…lol.  I thought of one just a moment ago that I had to share: Getting shot in the head with a BB gun.  What?! I know right, so random.

Right outside of Greenville, South Carolina is a place called Travelers Rest.  My parents were pastors with The Salvation Army, and had very good relationships with the leaders at our church.  One of the Thanksgivings that we spent in Greenville, South Carolina was with a couple in leadership at the church.  She was doing the youth work, and he was kind of like a chaplain: Chuck and Sharon.  They lived, you guessed it, in Travelers Rest.  We set out that day to have Thanksgiving at their house with several members of Chuck and Sharon’s extended family.  I can’t remember all the details in this story…I don’t know if it was before dinner, or after, but at any rate, my 6-year-old self and Sharon’s niece Destiny (who was maybe 14) went for a walk when the craziest thing happen.

Two little boys down the street from where Chuck and Sharon lived were taking turns shooting a BB gun at a metal sign.  Boys, have you not seen A Christmas Story?!? Ralphie already proved that that was a baaad idea!  Anyway, they were taking turns shooting at a road sign, and I guess Destiny and I didn’t realize in time or something.  But a BB ricocheted off the sign, grazed Destiny’s purple, flowy shirt and hit right above my eye (again, not sure which eye because I was 6 and I can’t remember everything).

I grabbed my eye as blood poured down from my eyebrow and Destiny and I ran back to the house.  Destiny had a flair for the dramatic and I guess I did too (and still do) so between the way I was holding my eye, and the way we were both screaming, my parents thought I had lost my eye!  I mean, there was a lot of blood!  It ruined my fully hot pink sweat suit covered with bears (my style back then still horrifies me)!

It turns out that all I needed to recover was a band aid, a fresh sweat suit, and a trip to the ice cream parlor the next night.  And hey, it made a good story at school!

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