By Karen Sommerfeld for Purple Clover
I really had no idea I was commencing to die.
I was the least adventurous 12-year-old ever. My parents used to lock the screen door behind me for 15 minutes a day so I'd be forced to go outside like a regular kid. I'd sigh, take my inevitable book and read on the hammock until my sentence was up.
If you were a betting man, you'd not have placed your money on me to be the child in the neighborhood who would get spectacularly injured. But one summer...