I DON'T WANT TO BE ON THE NEWS!!!

When I was eight my dad, sister and I went on a cross-country trip in the winter. At New Mexico we decided to camp in the desert. There were a lot of mountains surrounding the campsite. (I'm not sure if they were REALLY mountains or just really big hills. That's what living in Florida does to you. I'll just call them mountains, it's MY blog after all) So, anyway it was my little eight year old dream to climb (really hike) the mountain, it was my sister's too.

One day all three of us woke up early, got dressed in our hiking clothes and got all set to go hiking. (Not on the trail of course because that's really boring and much too easy.) It was exciting and fun but then we neared the top of the mountain. The mountain thinned out and became rockier, you had to half climb/half hike to get up there. My dad and I sat down on the rocks as my ballsy sister, always in need to explore, decided to climb up the rocks. Eight year old me was awed, I think my sister just liked rocks though.

I, being too young and my dad being too lazy just decided we'd wait on the rocks. So about 10 minutes after my sister left my imagination got ahold of me. I was CERTAIN my sister had fallen and died on her journey. What else could be taking her so long? She was obviously dead. So I started crying and quickly became hysterical. Because I felt I lost my only sister? No, because I didn't want to be on the news.

I think my dad at first thought it was sweet how worried I was about my sister, until he heard me blubbering about the news. Even then, he tried to comfort me... in his own 'special' way...

Imagine how my sister felt when she came back to her little sister crying about the news.