Personal Narrative

I get woken up to my mother grabbing my face, patting my arms, and shaking my shoulders to wake me up. The bright blue numbers on the alarm clock showing 3:47 a.m. “Kelsie, Jimmy got burnt we are going to the hospital... He fell, Kelsie, he is burnt really bad.” Tears are streaming down her face she is beginning to panic. “Stay here with your sister we have to go to the hospital.” and she rushed out of the room. Still not awake enough to realize if this is actually happening or if I am just dreaming. I get up and walk to the living room just to get a glimpse of mom’s car flying down the driveway. Gathering my blankets and going to the couch, I wait for a phone call or text saying he is okay. Time to play the waiting game. I doze in and out

when I notice headlights coming down the drive. That was the day my life would be put into an entirely new perspective on tragedies and just how bad they can be.
Mom and dad come in the front door. Mom rushing around the house, making coffee, changing her clothes, still pacing back and forth she begins to cry. Dad, trying to keep up with her decides to give up and goes back outside. Now sitting up I can see mom with her face buried in her hands and leaning into the bed. She sounds like she is going to begin hyperventilating. She picks herself back up, wipes her tears, blows her nose, and rushes to the kitchen to see if the coffee is done. She comes back to the living room with two to-go cups. I ask, “You need two cups this morning?” and she replies, “I have to take Candace a cup, Kelsie we have to get sober, we have 


Eldridge 2 to sober up, Jimmy is burnt so bad, he is burnt so bad.” The tears start coming down again.

We visited every Sunday for a good three and a half months. 


Eldridge 3
When he came home he still had to wear that white cloth with little holes all in it. The burns and skin grafts hadn’t healed all the way; he could barely wear a shirt, hated wearing pants, could not hardly sit down for longer than ten minutes, hell he could barely walk without complaining about the pain. Slowly but surely the burns started healing, the skin grafts started healing, the scars started setting in. When he could first take the cloth off he had the pattern of the cloth on his back and legs.
The day it happened after everything had settled down just a little bit mom told my sister and I that last night when they were all drinking outside by the fire. They burnt a plastic tug boat sand box because it was trash and no one needed it anymore. Jimmy stumbled and fell backwards into all the melted plastic, catching on fire. Candace and my dad tackled him and began patting him to put the fire out, ripping his shirt off in the process. All the alcohol being in his system he felt fine as my parents try coaxing him to get into the car to go to the hospital. When he got in the