I hit my head really hard when I was a kid. I was 6 to be more specific. Obviously I don't

remember much from the actual hit, but it concerned the hell out of my mom. And she first

told me about it, she said she'd laughed afterwards. I'd gotten hit in the face with a ball

and toppled over, and while she still checked that I was okay, I was a third kid, so she

thought it was funny. At first. She told me I wasn't the same kid afterwards. The happy,

bubbly boy she once had was replaced by a vapid, empty, shelver child. She brought me to therapy,

talked to school psychiatrist the whole nine yards. They told her there was nothing wrong with me,

medically, that it was a trauma response, that the fall just freaked me out, and that eventually

I'd go back to normal after I got over the shock of it all. They confused her because she didn't

think the fall was a big deal. All kids fell. My two older brothers had fallen in a million times

before me, and she just laughed it off. Doctors just told her this was different for whatever reason.

I went on to have a pretty normal life after that. Or be it missing this six years of lost for

life my mother insists I had. When she would tell me about the accident and how empty she thought

it left me, it definitely did make me sad. But it also made me think. I didn't feel empty,

per se. I just felt like me. But when she insisted that I was missing something that I had before

the fall, I started to believe her. She tried not to make me feel too weird about it, but I could

always tell that there was some spark in me that was lost after that day. One that she always hoped

would come back. One that never left for my brothers. Despite all of this, we lived normal lives.

My brothers, who were both several years my senior, got married and had kids of their own.

My parents were thrilled, especially my mom. We were like the perfect nuclear family.

My parents didn't rush me to meet anyone and get married. They knew my time would come,

and they already had grandchildren on the way. When I met Sarah, all that changed.

...