The Leap That Ended It All

By: Anonymous

“Final stop!”

It was just like any other Tuesday. I was six years old. I was wearing my usual navy blue dress that barely passed my knees. My braids—Nanay did them before I had to rush out to catch the bus this morning. I never liked Tuesdays—or any other day that involved school. 

“Hey! This is your stop!”

My eyes snapped forward to meet the driver's sharp blue glare in the rearview mirror.

I grabbed my Dora backpack and rushed out of the bus. Outside, children walked away with their caregivers. I spotted mine beneath a massive pine tree with my brother, Yuji, and childhood friend, Henry. 

I walked towards my Lola quietly. She was frail, but stood firm, her cane planted beside her, with gray hair tied back to reveal all the lines etched across her face. 

“Ate! You almost got taken away again!” Yuji giggled, hiding behind her dress.

(“Sister!”)

I muttered an apology to my Lola while I shot a brief glare at my brother. Together, we walked towards the tall, stale-white building.

Upon entering the building, the air smelled like old perfume—the kind you'd find in an antique shop. We followed a long beige carpet to the elevator. When the doors finally opened, I stretched my arm up and confidently pressed the 7th floor button. I was finally tall enough. 

Vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr…

Vrrrrrrrrrrrr…

Ding!

The moment the elevator door opened, Henry, Yuji, and I burst out, racing down the halls towards our Lola's apartment door. We always did this. We always won. And then we waited as she slowly strode towards the door. She whipped out her keys like a cowboy drawing a revolver—but the moment she slid the key into the lock, it didn’t fit. 

“Tch..” my Lola muttered, trying again.

Nothing.

She began knocking on the door, calling out weakly, but her ragged voice barely passed the thick door. After several attempts, she looked at us and then at the door. 

Those eyes of determination remained firm. 

“Take a seat, kids, we have to wait until the Super gets help.”

My Lola slowly lowered herself onto the dusty red carpet, her legs giving in. We sat beside her. Time passed, and eventually hunger crept in. We ate whatever we had left in our lunch boxes. It wasn't much—but our Lola reminded us it was enough. 

At some point, our boredom turned into energy.

We ran through the pale white halls, our laughter echoing right behind us. We played octopus, red light green light, freeze tag—until, almost at the same time, we thought of it:

Leapfog.

Laughter filled the room as we took turns jumping over one another. My cheeks ached from smiling. After I watched Yuji jump over Henry, I knew it was my turn. 

I braced myself, gathering all my energy. This would be my greatest jump—the ultimate shoutout to God for making me able to be the most athletic, unstoppable six-year-old alive. 

I bolt forward.

“I don't wanna play anymore!--”

WHAM!

Suddenly—

I was flying

Welp. Here I am now, flying mid-air like a baby bird learning to fly. I saw Yuji's and Henry’s faces frozen somewhere between awe and terror.

For a split second, I swore my soul had taken a small detour to Heaven.

So this is it, I thought. C'est la vie, mes amis.

I glanced at my Lola. Even she knew it was too late to do anything. 

Well… tell my family I died doing something…impressive. May I be the first six-year-old to ever touch the sky—and accidentally meet my maker on the way down. 

Then—

Reality struck me down before I did.

WHACK.

I crashed and rolled across the floor like a stack of cans. 

Pain erupted through my body. My head throbbed while my vision was dazed.

Then something brushed against my hand. 

J-Jesus?...Oh god–am I actually dead?!

I opened my eyes. 

I was lying near my Lola's lap. 

…I suppose my application to Heaven was rejected.

I look up to find those tired fiery eyes full of shock. 

And then I began to cry.

Not because I missed my chance for a get-together with Jesus, but because the pain was unbearable, surging from head to toe. My Lola took a long, exasperated sigh and took me into her lap. After a few minutes, I felt calm, but pain struck through my arm. I tried not to think about it that much. Who knew that would be a mistake.

“Aay nako!” My lola took a long inhale and exhaled slowly. 

(“Oh my!”)

Regret for letting us fool around was painted all over her face.

“That's enough, children! Sit down. We'll wait for the Super.” 

We obeyed instantly, like she ruled the entire hallway. Silence filled the halls–broken only by my quiet sniffles. I couldn't help it. I tried my best not to think about my arm. 

Vvvvvrrrrrrrrrrrr….

Vvvvrrrrrr…

Ding!

The elevator doors opened. 

Our eyes shot towards the elevator. 

And just as we hoped for, there came the Super: my dad!

To us, my dad might as well have been Superman, coming to our rescue. 

“Kumusta?”

(“How are you?”)

“Okay naman.”

(“I'm okay”)

“Mabait po ba sila, Lola?”

(“Have these kids been good, Lola?”)

“Oo mababait sila.”

(“Yeah, they've been good.”)

My dad's eyes went to my small, whimpering figure that clutched my arm tightly. 

“Anong vanguard kay Janella?”

(“What's wrong with Janella?”)

“Nalaglag siya sa paglalaro”

(“She fell down from playing.”)

“Oh, okay.”

My dad crouched down to my level, his calm eyes meeting mine. He raised his big calloused hand and gently ruffled my hair.

“You okay, Janelle?” he questioned as he scanned my body for any more bruising. 

“Yes pa…” I answered back through whimpers while managing to crack a smile.

One week later – 4:00 pm, Dr. Inandan's office.

“Makikita dito na. Yung buto sa kama no anak mo,” the doctor says as she points at the screens full of pictures to my mom.

(“As you can see here. The bone is broken.”)

“Ay nabali last week pa!” my doctor lightly laughs, only to be met with silence. 

(“Your child has had a broken arm since last week!”)

So I was not okay.

My Ilocano was never the best. But when I saw the black and white photos of a broken bone, they told me something. That was not anyone's arm. The damaged little arm belonged to me. 

I couldn't bear to look at my mom. Shame crept in, though there was no reason for it. 

But…

Why?

“Janella.”

I looked up to face the doctor in front of me. 

“Let’s get that bandaged. Let that heal for about 6 weeks, okay?”

I nodded.

Swish-swish

Swish-swish

Swish-swish

Riiiiiiiiiip!

“There you go!”

I looked into the mirror. The white cast looked enormous—bigger than my head I must say!

Before leaving, I waved at the doctor, thanking her for the bandage…and the lollipop

Rumble-rumble-rumble

Pppssshhhhhhhh! Ding!

“Janelle, this is our stop.”

I followed my mom like how I played follow the leader at school. I knew very well that I was good at that game.

We finally reached our apartment. My mom and I took our coats off and hung them in the tidy closet. 

“Go draw for now. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” 

I walk over to my small table—my safe haven. That table is where I can escape the chaos around me. I call this my safe haven that provides me with everything I need: the colours at arm’s reach, blank pieces of paper that my mom always piles up, and the monkey plush that sits in the corner. It was there to always watch my creativity paint these papers. With that, these pale walls added colour thanks to my art.

The white piece of paper awaits me.

I sat down and picked up a pencil. Perhaps I’ll draw today.

I lifted my arm—only for it to betray me.

Oh. Right…

How could I forget?

My left arm hung uselessly in its sling.

I stared at the pale blank sheet of paper.

At six years old, six weeks felt like an eternity. But maybe that wasn't the hardest part. 

Perhaps it was learning that even when you feel invincible–when you believe you can fly–there are limits your body understands before you do. 

I set the pencil down.

If there is one thing I learned that kept me from the hospital for the next ten years, it's this: 

I'm retired from leapfrog. 

Defeated? No. 

Alive? 

…Barely.

About the writer

Hello! I am a grade twelve student at St. Joseph Morrow Park in Toronto, Ontario. I enjoy journaling and photographing the memories I make along the way. I am not much of an athletic person, and this story will certainly explain to you why. I am extremely grateful for this opportunity to share my story and let it be heard by numerous readers across the province!

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