Today I nearly died, and for a minute there, it was touch and go for Grace, too. What would traditionally be considered a fairly embarrassing and potentially dangerous event, quickly became a seriously terrifying scene. Today, I fell down the stairs with Grace a step below me.
I'm not what one would refer to as coordinated, and my less than svelte build can mean rapid descention with little to stop me. Falling down the stairs is a weekly occurrence for me, usually involving a missed step or two, and a good long laugh. Today was different. To the onlooker, it must have appeared that I just walked right off the top step. Somewhere between stepping off the first step and plumetting to the bottom, I noticed Grace's quizzical expression. For all of the times that I held Grace's had or urged her to "hold the rail", here's Mom, rocketing towards the ground looking like a seriously disoriented Peter Pan.
I can now report that although my ankle may be broken, Grace made it out of the incident unscathed. My biggest fear was that I'd take her down with me, or worse - underneath me. Grace spent the rest of the evening shooting me dirty looks, as if to say "You're a real jerk, Mom", but we both know we lucked out.
Now to ice this cankle.