A High Threshold for Pain

It was finally warm enough for camping; soon the adventures would begin.

Despite rain, we headed out.  We walked the sites, choosing the best location. 

Fiona began to bark; I looked in time to see Mom fall and Dad help her up.

“Just a sprain,” she said, limping, but I saw tears in her eyes.

The site chosen, we set up, Mom biting her lip as she worked.

“Girls, help Daddy with the sleeping bags.  Boys, you can unload the food so I can start lunch,” Mom suggested.

“Fallon, she’s really hurt,” Heather said, concerned.

“It’s just the onion,” Mom insisted, overhearing.

We were playing fetch with the dog when the rain started; we ran to Shepherd’s Cave and decided to explore.  Among the water bottles and snacks we found a flashlight in the backpack.

“Over here,” Nathaniel called. 

Chad directed the light and Dad led the way. 

“Looks like a geode,” Nathaniel said.

“Can you lift it?” Dad asked, taking the light. “I’ll go for the van and we’ll take it to the Ranger’s Office.”

We carried the rock across the meadow and waited. 

“Looks like a geode,” the Ranger said, taking measurements and photographs.  “Would you do the honors?  Saw a grove so we can split it.”

Nathaniel sawed; Dad and Chad hammered the chisels.  The rock opened, displaying beautiful amethyst crystals and rippling layers of agate.  Mom wrote our adventures in her notebook. 

Mom visited the doctor after we got home.  “This happened when?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Early Saturday morning.”

“Now it’s Wednesday afternoon.”

“I didn’t wanna ruin the year’s first camping trip?”

“Everyone had fun?”

“Yes.”

“And you?”

“I sat, mostly.”

“I’m not surprised. Your ankle is severely sprained, and broken.  What have you to say for yourself?”

“I have a high threshold for pain?”

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