An old memory

I remember my childhood summers, when I was about eight years old, riding my scrap bike through the dirt streets of our neighborhood. One sunny day, I decided to slide down the hill behind my house. The wind was blowing in my face and I felt like I was flying. Suddenly, my bike slipped and I fell into a stream of water! I got soaked, my knee hurt, but I laughed out loud. My mother shouted from a distance: “What have you done?!” At that moment, the world was full of freedom and mischief for me. I still remember the smell of damp dirt that day.