Ashes, Ashes, I Always Fall Down

I'd like to begin by saying that I have officially become a true Charlestonian in my own, very special way.  I do a lot of things very well--I read quickly, I'm good with kids, I make a mean boxed macaroni and cheese--but one thing I do not do well is walking.  I am a TERRIBLE walker.

My poor mother enrolled me in ballet classes when I was just a wee thing, I'm sure with dreams of seeing her graceful daughter twirling around the stage in a gossamer tutu, and still I ended up being one of the klutziest people I know of.  I'm constantly tripping on things, misjudging depth and slamming my forehead into corners or walls, tumbling down stairs...  One of my biggest fears living in a two story house and being alone so often is that I'll somehow catapult off the top step and break my neck only to have my dogs eat my face and my husband discover my remains when he returns home from a trip two weeks later.

Long time readers may remember my graceful tumble down the hills of Seattle, not once, but twice within the span of about 60 seconds, prompting a kind Samaritan to doubt my sobriety.  That was also the experience that led to my phobia of walking down hills of any sort.  My heart leaps into my throat even thinking about descending a downward grade of more than 1%.  And yet, in my life, I have come to the conclusion that you never really live somewhere until you bite the dust there in a spectacularly painful and humiliating fashion.

Up until yesterday, I had managed to navigate the streets of Charleston with great success, and I think the heady rush of stability led to a sense of ambulatory overconfidence and my eventual downfall (pun intended).  There I was, walking down the treacherous sidewalks of the city, admiring the impressive architecture and chatting with a friend, when out of nowhere that sidewalk reached up, caught hold of my boot and dragged me down to the ground with impressive force.

The really ridiculous part was, as I observed the ground rushing toward my face, all I could think to myself was, "Oh my God, my boots are going to be so scuffed!"  As I pushed myself off of the ground, sadly taking in the shredded and scraped condition of my jeans and knees, and carefully brushed the gravel off of the remaining shreds of my dignity, I heard the sound of a car window rolling down and a voice floated out into the damp lowcountry air, "Are you okay?"  As I looked over at my friend Sarah and then back at the family gazing out of their car in surprise and concern, I felt a sense of what can only be described as relief.  It had to happen at some point, and now I have that awkward first time behind me.

And then the throbbing began.

Comments

[shani]

You were in San Fran three times in the last two years and never fell. I say if you don't fall here, that's a victory against gravity!

I hope you're not hurt too badly--feel better!

[operation pink herring]

It warms my heart to hear that I have such a lovely compatriot in falling down-ness. I fall/trip/tumble off my bike at least once a month. it just makes your bones stronger, that's what I say.

[Jessica]

Oh my gosh I hope you're okay! I tripped three times in San Fran and Boston. Boston I actually fell but I could keep myself up straight for California. Still hurt.

[anonymous prep]

I'm forever banging into tables and stubbing my toes! Hope you're feeling better!

[Regan]

Tripping for no good reason has been kind of a running joke for me as well. You can always do like I do and blame it on the sniper in the bushes. ;-) That sniper has followed me down sidewalks, into malls, airports, stairwells...remarkably good aim, that sniper.

[The Incubator]

Now you understand why you were born into a family that would intermitently hand out a "grace award." It was not named for Grace Kelly:) Hope you will be healed for our NYC venture where we will be vertically challenged!

[Kendra]

Yes, as The Incubator said, it is for sure in the genes. I was voted "Clumsiest" in my class at Moorpark College....there is a picture of me in the yearbook next the Emu, Julio, as he was voted clumsiest animal. Later, Julio turned out to be a Julia....but that's another story.