It pains me to know that my kid will have to one day hunt the depths of the deep internet to get the title of this post.
But not as much as it hurts to actually legit fall down.
Have you fallen recently? I have and I'd like to solemnly express how really fucking bad it is.
I lasted 13 hours with no epidural; I willingly and daily chomp on hangnails and exquisitely rip them off, leaving my fingers smartly bleeding all over important work papers; one time I almost lost a baby toe to the wooden foot of an ottoman.
So, I know pain. I remember its cruel taste. But I had forgotten what it's like to fall down like a drunk toddler in front of many people with both hands occupied with approximately 834838737564 grocery bags.
The tip of my new boots caught the lip of a slightly risen sidewalk crack.
My brain registered exactly what was about to happen as my body started its slow descent.
I felt a "ughhhhhhh" Master P groan escape my lips. I smacked forward down onto the pavement on all hands and knees, with purpose and might and 150 pounds of graceless horror.
The girl with the giant bouquet of flowers who had been in front of me paused and called out, "Are you okay?"
"ALL GOOD. JUST WANT TO DIE HERE FOREVER."
The man in shorts with overly shapely calves who I had rushed past walked past me with NARY A WORD.
Thanks Calvesy. Seriously. I wanted no part of your pity.
I sat on my knees in a W pose like a kid waiting for a story, surrounded by my bags of food and cloud of shame, and quickly scraped all of me up and off the ground.
My quick assessment: palms and kneecaps were stinging but everything else felt intact. My artisanally ripped jeans were smudged but they could be laundered.
Even though my eyes were tiny tide pools of tears and the shame of this public weakness was thickly buzzing around my ears, I knew deep down what a lucky bitch I was.
Every year I celebrate a birthday is a year my bones and tendons and ligaments and spine and nerves and teeth have worked in tandem to move me about my life. I LOVE THIS TEAM. I made them slog along for years with an extra 80 pounds and they didn't crumble.
I take this body out for a run every few days. In 20 years they will determine running to be as dangerous and foolhardy as smoking. Every part of your body crunching down onto two knees and two ankles - how do we not grind our bones into dust after a marathon?
So even though my fall has probably been made into a Vine and I'm as Internet famous as the girl who fell into the fountain while texting, I am alive and well and not typing this in traction.
That's so good.
After about four months of shitty luck, a flu, cold, work up to my tits, a kid in the hospital and no desire or words or stories good enough to share here, maybe my flying swan dive into the earth will shake something good loose.
It does my ego good to think when I'm not posting here that you think about me. Maybe even worry about me.
I'm feeling my way back again into storytelling. I love this space. I want to keep it warm. So, I'm dusting off all my parts and making notes for myself and revving up old engine parts.
Thanks for being here as I right myself again, so I can write again. xo