For the first time in many years, I fell downstairs and skinned my knee. Unfortunately, I did it while I was holding a cup of coffee in my hand. At the very last minute, I remember making the conscious decision that it was more important for me to catch myself than to keep my coffee. And it was good coffee. I had splurged that day and had bought a coffee from the local coffee shop. Ah, the simple joy in a good americano. And the great embarrassment as I had to clean up the mess on the carpeted floor post-spill. Of course I was at the church. My very kindly janitor, when I apologized for the spill, shrugged. Bless him. And then in his quiet way, there were rugs there the next time I passed by.
Gentle readers, I have blogged before about being a total klutz. It's kind of implied in the blog title, if all of my entries begin with a blunder. The physical act of falling has gotten me thinking. As a child, falling was not uncommon. My relatives like to remind me that I was uncommonly good at it: climbing, running, falling-- generally rushing about for a better angle or a greater adventure. So much so, they gave me the nickname "Crash". That's my favorite story to hear about at weddings. (sarcasm here) These days when I visit the old, I am struck at how terrifying falling is for them. When a fall could become the difference between remaining independent and becoming dependent on someone else for care. And me, somewhere in between the age strata. I am no longer as young as I was, my body reminded me of that when I got up to brush myself off. Though I was still able to resume a normal walking gait in a few steps. My pride was aching more than my body. Also I missed my coffee.
Falling. Weeks now after my tumble down the stairs, I stretch in my office chair, no longer sore. A thought occurred to me, not all falling is bad. You can fall in love, fall to sleep, and in autumn clocks, fall back. Falling in love is a dizzying affair (my favorite St. Paul sidewalk quote "a person in love is like a dog on a walk-- you can't tell them that the world isn't new), and, if we are very lucky, it can find its grounding on a foundation worth building. Falling to sleep is one of my favorite things, I fight it off often (like now) with caffeine. And falling back in daylight's savings, well, it's a way to be orientated to the way the world (and the light levels) change.
Falling is a change. And it's disruptive. Sometimes it's a disruptive reminder to slow down, look and see, and be more careful for the last step down, eh?
