Too Young...

When I was about seven or eight years old, my grandparents took me on vacation to a resort. I don't remember the name or what state it was in, but I remember the playground and playing on it almost everyday I was there with another girl. We became friends. One day, we were playing on the playground. Pirates, I believe. The girl's older brother was playing with us. I think he was in his teens. Anyway, we were the pirates and he was trying to catch us, it was a game. A fun game. But you know how the saying goes. "Everything's fun and games until somebody gets hurt." I was distracted by the fun we were having, shouting orders like a captain. "Throw things at him! Throw rocks!" I didn't know better. Next thing I know, my friend had thrown a rock at her brother, hitting him in the head. He started bleeding and the girl, my friend, screamed at me, saying it was my fault her brother was hurt because I told her to throw rocks at him.

I was hurting, but on the inside. They went back to their room so the brother could get cleaned up. Me? I remained at the playground, patiently and loyally waiting for my friend to come back out so we could play some more. Minutes passed and still I waited, idly playing by myself to pass the time. Finally, the door to their room opened (it was visible from the playground, right across the street actually), but, instead of my friend, I saw her brother. "Sorry, but my sister can't come back outside to play with you. Bye."

I don't know if I really understood what had happened that day. I had lost my friend because of a stupid game turned deadly. I know it was my own fault for saying something so stupid. I trudged back to my room. Later that week, when we were getting ready to leave to go home, we passed the playground driving out. The girl was there, playing with other kids. I eagerly rolled down my window, shouted her name, and waved. I was saying good bye. She looked up, saw me...and just continued playing.