Bruised Body, Bruised Ego

Have you ever taken an unexpected tumble? Like you're at school walking down the hall and you trip over your shoelaces that you thought were tied? Or maybe you were dancing then you lost your footing and fell? Or maybe, just maybe, you did what I did and tried something you were not prepared for and ended up paying the price. I have fallen many times and I am going to tell you about one of them.

When I was about five years old, I was convinced that I was a super fast runner. Mostly because when I ran, the ground became blurred and to me that meant I was going really fast. Every time someone came over, I had to show them just how fast I could run. When in reality I probably wasn't going very fast at all. It was just one of those silly things kids do. I thought I could run like the wind, but soon my dreams became a reality.

The day it happened, I had been playing a game with my older brother Jeramy upstairs. Jeramy is 10 years older than me, so there is a huge age difference. We were in the living room when we decided to take a trip to the basement. Now you have to understand that downstairs was the fun part of the house. It was still unfinished, so the floors were cement, which meant we could drive our scooters around and play games. Cops and robbers was our favorite one to play. Jeramy was very giddy and energetic that afternoon.
We were near the top of the stairs, when he exclaimed, "I'll race ya downstairs!" He was convinced he would beat me, but I wasn't sure about that.

The idea was interesting and I liked it; I had never done it before so it sounded like fun. Subconsciously there might have been some fear of failure or getting in trouble, but because it was Jeramy's idea, I agreed. Who wouldn't follow their older siblings lead, when you look up to them?
"Okay." I agreed.

I was up to the challenge, even though I knew my brother was fast. At the top of the narrow stairs we prepared ourselves and yelled "Ready, Set, Go!" Jeramy bolted off like a stallion. I bolted off as well, but not as smoothly as he did. He was ahead already, but I wasn't about to give up. The light wasn't on in the stairwell so it was dim, but I could still see where I was going. I was running down the steps as fast as my little legs could handle. About halfway down the hard wooden steps it happened. BOOM.

I somehow lost control of my quickly moving legs. I tripped over what seemed to be nothing and started tumbling down the rigid steps. Pain stabbed at my ribs, knees, arms and head and they clunked against the stiff wood. I knew this wasn't good, I had to think quickly. I did NOT want to hit that cement on the bottom of the steps. I knew that would hurt worse than tumbling down the steps itself. I was scared. My brother soon finished the race but kept on going around the corner, not realizing what was happening to me. I was still descending down the solid staircase like a bowling ball, getting bruised along the way.

I figured if I pushed hard against the wall of the stairs with my hands and feet, I would either slow down or stop, right? Wrong. I attempted this stunt, but failed miserably. As I pushed with my hands, the rough textured wall scraped against them, pulling back some skin. That stung, and it was a terrible idea. I began to panic, I was soon to hit the cold damp, compacted cement. I started to mentally prepare myself for an even worse pain, when all of a sudden my brother came barreling around the corner just in time. He caught me right before I hit the cement. I was crying of course, but my strong, loving brother carried me upstairs. He brought me to mom, who always seemed to know what to do. She acted quickly.

"What happened?" she boomed in an angry, yet concerned voice. Mom always had a way to make you realize your actions were not always well thought out. Although I was scared and crying I was also scared she would yell at us for what we did.

"Fell down the stairs." I somehow got out as I cried, while inspecting my yellow bruises that had already shown up on my arms and knees. Jeramy explained what happened and he was scolded for coming up with the reckless idea. I was given a bag of ice that was wrapped up in one of mom's flour cloths with cute designs in them. The ice felt cool on my skin, although I was still sore. My hands were red from the rugged wall. My head was pounding from the tragic fall. I was pampered for the rest of the day by my other siblings who were thankful I had not been hurt beyond repair. Miraculously, I had no broken bones and my bruises eventually went away. We quickly got over the incident and I recovered well.

I have never raced down the stairs again; I learned my lesson. The moral of the story is don't race downstairs even if you think you have a chance of winning. Lets face it, we're only human and we all fall down and get bruised,  even when we are just trying to get to class or maybe even learning the tango. We just have to learn to keep our feet on the ground and stay as stable as possible.