You Can Call Me Grace

I fell down – hard. I tried to step over a stroller, which was lying on the ground, and didn’t. The world slowed down. I tried to free my foot to catch myself but I couldn’t. I think I tried to grab a chair on the way down because one was knocked over when I got up. I remember hitting the ground but don’t remember falling. I didn’t hit my head but I did bang up my whole right side. I don’t know how I landed on my knee and my hip but they both hurt. I know I braced myself on the way down with my right hand because that hurts too. All kinds of thoughts rushed through my mind when I came to my senses. Again, I didn’t hit my head but I don’t know how else to describe the different modes of my brain other than to say I came to my senses when I started “thinking” again. I know I didn’t hit my head because it doesn’t hurt and there’s no crater in the floor. I thought about how lucky I was not to have injured myself. I thought about how it never hurt this much to fall down when I was a kid, and it was a lot easier to get back up. I thought about how I need to lose some weight so there just isn’t as much mass colliding with the ground the next time I fall. I thought about how weird adrenaline is. I thought about getting a med-alert bracelet, and how difficult it would be for Grammy to have to lift my broken carcass off the floor, especially with LMJ giving both of us directions. If I had the med-alert bracelet the ambulance would come automatically and the paramedics could hoist my bloated behind off the ground. Mostly, I thought about how lucky I was that I didn’t spill any of my pizza. Bones heal, sauce on the floor is gone forever.