The pain is unimaginable. I close my eyes. All I can see is the face of an angel. I see my grandmother’s face, but she isn’t here. I scream for her at the top of my lungs. Tears drop down my face, falling like treacherous rain, but the skies are blue. Clouds look like pillows floating in an ocean of my emotions. My grandmother still isn’t here. I’m screaming for her like I know for a fact that she’s going to come rescue me from this pain. A pain that I’ve never felt before. My eyes are closed, like vault doors trying to hold back the tears. I feel someone grab my hand, and tell me that everything is going to be okay. I open my eyes, and there she was. My angel. My grandmother. She held a wet cloth, and a band-aid. Even though the pain was still there, it didn’t seem so bad anymore. My tears slowly stopped falling because somehow I knew that everything was going to be just fine. I mean who knew that scraping your knee would hurt this much. To a five-year-old, it felt like my world was crashing down. I had jumped my neighbor’s fence to get my football, and when I was climbing back over, my foot slipped. I slammed my knee into the top of the prongs of the fence. I still have the scar.
