I recently
wrote about my face not cooperating with my brain and now my feet are
apparently in on the mutiny: yesterday I fell
while walking.
Notice I don’t
say “while skateboarding” or “while bungee jumping” or some equally glamourous
or athletic endeavor. Nope. Walking.
Let me set
the complicated scene. Daytime. My front yard. Walking at a normal pace (not running) toward
my car parked out front. Accompanied by
my kids (because let’s face it: there
are always witnesses to help record life’s embarrassments and retell them in excruciating
detail after the fact). I made the
critical mistake of stepping off the curb when suddenly my rebellious left ankle chose this
precise moment to go out.
I came
toppling down (with a surprised, squeaky sort of grunt sound effect emanating from my nose
and mouth, young witnesses later confirmed) and landed face down in a heap in the street,
keys and purse strewn about the asphalt.
I felt like
I’d been pushed, or at least tripped.
This is when
my life switched into slow motion, like some sort of Matrix movie. I lay there in a crumpled up pile for what
seemed like 10 minutes (but was probably 10 seconds) evaluating what had just
occurred. Who was my assailant? Had Tall played a cruel joke on his
middle-aged mother and given me a well-timed shove? Had Short picked up the sidewalk and shook it
fiercely, like a blanket? Had a rare
earthquake just announced its presence?
No. My feet just did not get the memo to perform
a complicated maneuver (e.g. “walk”) and therefore I fell.
The fall was
not without repercussions. Skin was
scraped. Ego was bruised. Blood was involved.
The children
(who are used to falling off their bikes and such) were immediately sympathetic
and helpful: “Mom! Are you okay?” “Do you need help?”
I pushed
myself up and for the first time noticed my elderly neighbor Harriet staring at
me from her front yard across the street.
Harriet is about 99 years old and has a live-in nurse.
I did not
want to alarm Harriet, so I waved and called out: I’m all
right!
She waved
back from her walker and responded, “Don’t worry, dear, that happens to me all
the time.”
I dusted
myself off, got in the car with the kids and drove away, praying Harriet would
not post a video of my fall on YouTube later.
MOV
