It started with the treadmill early one morning this past week. I normally don’t hold my notebook when walking on my treadmill, mostly because I normally am NOT walking on my treadmill. This week I decided to do both which apparently is never a really good idea. A very nice walking pace was rudely interrupted when I stepped on the non-moving left side of the treadmill while my right foot mysteriously kept moving backwards. It was then the notebook went flying-I shot off the treadmill spun around, hit a chair that hit a lamp that hit the wall. Thankfully nothing was broken or sprained just a tiny little wound to my pride.
Warm slippers travel with me but this morning they failed me terribly; never mind that it’s not the slippers fault that I don’t pick up my feet when I’m walking in them. It wasn’t their fault when I chose to wear them outside to run to the car while visiting my 93 year old mother. I’ve never noticed the sidewalk raised barely half an inch not far from her front door but apparently my slipper-ed foot discovered it. Yes again I found myself propelling towards the earth and all that I was carrying once again flying through the air.   Responding to a kind neighbor who heard the clanging sound of  my pride hitting the ground  I assured her, ” I’m fine, just tripped, thanks for checking on me” as I quickly walked to my car after gathering up the items strewn about all while assessing my body to make certain everything was still functioning as it should. Next time I decide to wear my slippers I will borrow my mother’s walker to ensure I make it safely to the car.
My older sister Pam said the year she turned 50 she fell 3 times. She recalled a fall in her classroom full of  kindergartners she was entrusted to teach and inspire. She was hoping they would not be traumatized by the memory of their teacher flying through the air ending with an olympic-level  belly flop so she said she quickly jumped up and explained wholeheartedly what a wonderful experience that was- so much fun! Her story reminded me of my nearly graceful fall in Haiti last year witnessed by only one person – that I’m aware of.
So this is the look of aging gracefully? How will I ever make it to 93 like my mother?
Thankfully I have discovered epsom salts, essential oils and a bathtub. Thank you God I survived this unstable clumsy week of being 50…something.