Chapter 1: A Day to Remember

Years later, I often ponder:

Do you recall that particular Sunday afternoon

when you visited your Uncle Don and Aunt Viola's

immaculate suburban house?

What began as a delightful day

with your uncle, a passionate gardener,

showing off his vibrant scarlet zinnias,

their rigid petals and yellow centers

fragrant with a mix of black pepper and lemon?

Inside, the lively chatter of adults,

the joyful noise of cousins playing,

and the anticipation of chocolate-frosted donuts

paired with a cold glass of milk awaited.

"Can you get the tall glasses from the cupboard?" Aunt Viola inquired.

Brimming with the confidence of an eight-year-old

who believes she is quite mature,

you stood on tiptoes, balancing precariously on your slender legs,

reaching for the cupboard shelf with one hand

while your other hand unwittingly pressed against the still-warm stove.

Do you recall that dizzying instant

when your innocent joy shifted to excruciating pain,

so intense that screaming seemed futile,

leaving you only able to emit a high-pitched wail,

rocking on your trembling heels,

your scorched palm pressed against your throat?

Voices swirled around you, filled with concern,

some offering advice, others scolding you for your misstep.

Your mother guided your hand under cold water,

immersing it in a sink filled with ice,

assuring you it would be okay,

giving a swift embrace,

and brushing your hair from your face,

saying, "Keep your hand in the water. I'll return shortly."

Do you remember how the minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity?

The water turned lukewarm, your hand throbbed,

but when lifted, the pain returned with a vengeance.

Yet it wasn’t just the physical pain you felt;

it was a deeper, more enduring hurt —

a feeling of being overlooked and diminished,

the weight of guilt for your carelessness.

A nagging voice echoed in your mind,

one you had often heard and still replay in moments of self-doubt.

Do you remember? Of course, you do.

Laughter from the dining room,

everyone enjoying themselves,

devouring donuts — possibly even your own.

How reluctant you felt to join them,

longing to be back home,

under cool sheets, your burnt hand resting against your heart.

While children across the globe suffer from far more serious traumas,

the memory of that day — which began so sweetly and ended in tears —

remains etched in my mind even after sixty years.

Reflecting back, I realize that the day held more than just a burned hand.

As the eldest child and only girl in my family,

I felt the pressure to set a good example,

to never complain, to always do what was right.

Left to tend my blistered hand alone,

I felt not only foolish but also disruptive

to the joy of those around me.

Children possess remarkable resilience, yet they can also harbor

a profound discomfort when they feel inadequate.

Fortunately, as I grew older, I developed a stronger sense of self

and learned to be kinder to myself.

And yes, I’ve treated myself to delicious donuts countless times since then!

In this video, titled "Hot Stove Radio Live - July 22, 2022," the discussion revolves around childhood experiences and the lessons learned from them. It captures the essence of how small incidents can shape our understanding of resilience and growth.

Chapter 2: Lessons Learned

The second video, "Tutor Nick P Quotes (146) Albert Einstein - Put Your Hand on a Hot Stove for a Minute," draws parallels between childhood experiences and the wisdom gained through pain. It emphasizes the importance of self-awareness and learning from our mistakes.

This article was published on August 19th, 2024, in Deep. Sweet. Valuable. publication.