Friday, April 19, 2013, took place when I was in fifth grade, a month away from leaving the elementary school I had grown to love. I woke up later than normal because I had an operation scheduled for my knee, for it had loose ligaments that caused the kneecap to slip out of place. The first time that my kneecap popped out of joint took place when I stepped down the stairs at my grandma’s house on a cold November night. From that point on, I had to be extra careful in gym class. One time I ended up kicking a ball in Big Base and fell down because my knee had popped. Another time I walked down our stairs, and it slipped. Six months after the first time falling, I needed surgery. Normally on a Friday morning, I would have ridden the bus to school and hung around until class started. Instead, I hopped into my mom’s suburban, and we rode to St. Gabriel’s Hospital in Little Falls. …show more content…
The room comprised of an odd chair, a tv, and one wall that was not truly a wall, but a curtain. I sat in the chair watching the news with my parents. Four days before, the Boston Marathon bombing had occurred. Three people had been killed, and several more were injured. The bombers were brothers. The police found the older brother several days before, shortly after the bombing, but they were still looking for the younger one. The police believed that they knew the general area of where he hid. I can still remember watching all the warnings on the news, about how dangerous he could be, and even though I was safe, far away from Boston in the middle of Minnesota, I