Broken

There are many things I could've written in a Personal Narrative. I chose to write about how I broke my wrist. One day I was riding my bike in front of my house with my big brother. My mom, brother, and I were at home while the rest were at my grandma's house with my dad. It was a Saturday. As we were riding our bikes, my brother hit the back of my tire hard. I was about 6 years old and I had just learned how to ride my bike. When he hit me I fell off my bike and landed on my hand. We went inside because I felt dizzy and my hand was hurting. In a couple of hours my uncle came to take me to the hospital to see if I broke something. It turns out I broke my wrist and I needed a cast. The next day I went back and got my cast on. When my teacher that year (Mrs. Biorn) saw it she was worried. Several people I knew signed it. Between that time I did a project at my church for Mother's Day. It required me to paint my hand and press it down on paper. When mine was finished it looked as if my palm wasn't there. Anyway, after a few months with it on I finally got it taken off. I learned one thing, never bump into anyone when it comes to riding bikes.