Eve.

When your young jumping from one bed to another always seems like a good idea. Especially when you’re in a hotel room and excited about a wedding that is the family’s entertainment for the next day. I had tonsillitis at this point so was paying no particular attention to anyone but myself and my mum was feeling stressed due to parent’s in law and some general family politics. So the little ones continued to jump from the double bed to pull out couch bed. Just like that over and over again. Me in the other room and my mum outside on the balcony.

The scream that my brother made still replay’s in my head like it happened only minutes ago. The cry of realisation that what just happened really did happen and the potential consequences for this occurrence were still very much unknown.

When I panic I want to just shut down. Like when I was younger and people were chasing me I used to just stop running and crouch into a ball because if I couldn’t see them I was convinced they could not see me. And that is exactly what I wanted to do. I wanted to pretend I wasn’t there and this hadn’t happened and everyone was still jumping from bed to bed and my mum was still outside and I was still wrapped up in myself worrying about the fact I was going to have tonsillitis for the wedding. For the wedding of my step dad’s brother. The wedding that slightly tainted the family.

All I know is I managed to pull it together. My brother and sister ran for help while my mum wrapped a pillowcase tightly around her leg. I somehow managed to pick up that phone dial the numbers and speak to the woman at the receiving end of the call. She asked questions about the position of the wound, the bleeding and what we were doing to control it.

Time passed, people panicked and while this was all happening she lay on that bed perfectly silent. No cry, no tears just nothing. She let her hands brush through her hair and motioned her eyes toward the various people that were surrounding her. The paramedic carried her out and like that she was taken away.

She is my sister Eve. She is six. She was four when this happened. I don’t think I realised until that day how much losing her would affect my life. Without her kind nature, her innocence and her perfect take on the world; I wouldn’t be the same person. She is gentle and loving and forgiving and considerate and she has only good intentions for anything. The scar on her leg fades more and more as months go by. It is now only a memory that she can hardly recall but continues to remind me to never take anything you love for granted. Keep it close. Never let it go.