Eileen Loveman Daily Posting

I've always been one of those kids who ran everywhere, and the evidence of my travels showed on my body.

Falling face forward on the sidewalk resulted in bloody palms, scraped elbows and legs that looked like they were dipped in barbeque sauce. They always looked burned red or rubbed raw. Scabs would pepper my shins and kneecaps, even my rear end would have road rash. I would sit where I landed, still and silent, for just a moment, to do a body check. Everything still worked, so I laughed at myself, brushed my legs off, and ran off to do it all again the next day.

As I got older, my love affair with the absurd knew no bounds. Tripping up the staircase as I tried to scale them two by two inevitably ended with knocking my cheekbones against the padded rungs or splitting my lip. My daily taste of salty blood on my tongue when I chomped on it whenever I tripped. I began to miss that afternoon snack after a while.

I never broke a bone, never chipped a tooth. I never had stitches, but the black and blue marks were a game in themselves. I delighted in the different shades of yellow, purple and green the contusions would fade into surrounding the brown of my freckles. Burn marks on my forearms foretold the coming of the holidays, as I always forgot to use a potholder to pull out the oven rack.

I was a klutz.

As time went on, I realized I needed to slow down, take time to smell the proverbial roses before I pierced my fingers on the thorns while inhaling. It was for the grace of God that I hadn't gotten myself killed, falling out of trees while climbing them with my kids, or rolling down snow hills as I lost my grip on the sled and bailed. It was amazing that I bled more than they did.

Suddenly I was a real grown up when my kids started to fall prey to the klutz gene I feared they had inherited from me. No one broke a bone, but they had their share of stitches. Dog bites, teeth knocked out from sports or kissing the sidewalk became the order of the day. Nothing life threathening but annoyances of life seemed to multliply daily.

Today I am a mature woman with 8 stitches across my right knee cap. The result of a early evening walk, some how I ended up face down in the gravel of the driveway across from our house. Walking the dogs with my beloved, it was as if suddenly I was 10 years old again.

It was so weird he said solemnly. One minute you were up, talking to me, and then you were down. Weird.

I sat where I landed, still and silent, for just a moment, to do a body check. Everything still worked, so I laughed at myself, brushed my legs off, and ran off to do it all again the next day.

I think we need to go to the hospital he said with a grin as the blood dripped down my ripped pants leg, the whole in my jeans growing brighter and brighter.   The fireman was in business.   

Except for the stitches, it was just like the good old days.