The big SPLAT

Normally I am not one for the moral in a story, but this one just might have a moral in there. WATCH FOR IT.

So on Saturday, Hubby, Child and I were lounging around purposeless, as you do on a Saturday, and decided to go see MEGAMIND. It was gorgeous and warm, so we walked. We watched, laughed, snarfed popcorn and Mike & Ikes, and headed back. It was twilight, with just a bite of cold in the air, enough that Child and I were talking about lighting pine-scented candles and giving her a warm bath. All three of us were laughing, happy. I actually thought to myself How happy I am right now.

Then Child said, "Let's race home!" and I was feeling so silly and giddy that I said "You're on!" and we took off. It was only about a block further.

She was ahead, going in the gate by the garage, and I thought "I'll fool her and go in the other gate and beat her," and just as I thought that,

the ground wasn't there anymore.

I was in the air, with nothing under my feet, and then I was on my face on the gravel, spread-eagled.

Being in the family I'm in, I popped RIGHT back up and started walking for the door as if nothing had happened. Yes, we're like cats.

But it HURT. Oh my GOD it hurt. The heels of my hands, my elbow, my left knee, all on fire at once.

"Are you okay?" Hubby yelled, behind me.

"No," I said, through gritted teeth, because I could get up, but I couldn't lie that much. But I kept walking to the house. I let us in, went straight to the bathroom, and rinsed off my hands with cool water. It was all I could think to do, to make it stop burning.

Hubby appeared in the bathroom door. "Are you okay?" he repeated. Demanded. "You tore your jeans."

I kept rinsing my hands. "My jeans are the least of my worries right now."

"What are your worries then?"

"My hands. And my knee. My knee hurts like..like mad."

He looked at my jeans, at my face. "Show me your knee."

Yes, dear readers, it was a bloody mess. Is, though it's much better now. But that night, all of a sudden I was an invalid. I couldn't stand to have anything touching it. Couldn't stand to bend it, to move. Couldn't sleep for how much it hurt. I got up to go to the bathroom in the night and it was ten minutes before I could do anything but wait for it to stop hurting like that.

Of course I was also trying to be brave about it, so Child wouldn't feel bad. She'd suggested running, so she thought it was her fault.

But what was the moral that I kept thinking about all that sleepless night? How quickly things change. You're happy, oblivious, chugging along, and you make one innocent decision and BLAM. SPLAT.

I know, this was a minor oops on the grand scale, but I think most accidents, most life-changing oopses, are like that. Life is one way, and then it's not anymore, and all of a sudden you have to adjust to the new reality. Whatever that is.

Sheesh, you'd think I could fall without having major life epiphanies, but YOU WOULD BE WRONG. :)

(also, my other major thought was THANK GOD IT WAS ME AND NOT CHILD. But you parents knew that one already)