I Had a Great Fall

I got on my bike, my mind prepared for the task at hand, my fingers clenched around the handlebars, my teeth clenched, my body totally ready. I was ready to peddle my bike; I had to make it over the ramp; I had to get to the other side. My task, getting over the ramp, seemed simple enough. I had to get up the ramp, over the top, down the side, and back to the ground, safely in one piece. I began the to pedal my bike over to the ramp. Simple enough...right? As I climbed further up the ramp and as I began to reach the top I began to become scared as I began to fall. My fall was terrible in appearance, yet the pain was little. On my hand, blood I saw spreading. Why did I feel no pain? I began to walk inside, and walked, and tripped, and found, and spoke to, my mom. Her view of my wound and her awe at the grotesqueness and my lack of panic, moved her to slowly but surely clean and bandage my wound, patting me on the back for my bravery.