“The leaves are finally falling.”
“Housing prices are falling.”
“My blood sugar is falling.”
In the past week, I have thought each of these things. I have also, to my great displeasure, thought: I am falling!
The problem was, rain had been falling. And the ground was wet and muddy and covered with fallen bark and leaves and branches from the eucalyptus trees all around.
I was late– well, actually I was early, but the bus was early too, so relative to my goal I was late. And I waved to show I intended to catch the bus, but it was post-rainy and darkish and I was in a eucalyptus grove after all. So I ran to catch the bus before it left.
And I fell. Hard. Caught by my sequined (yes, sequined!) 4-inch heels. And I landed on my knees.
In the mud.
In white pants.
But I found my sailor’s tongue, cursed, got up, and caught the bus, managing to arrive somewhat worse for the wear and more than a little disoriented but on time to a talk on gene expression in blood assays.
My knees are a little bloody. Does that count?
Autumn comes and goes, and housing prices are cyclical, and my blood sugar levels trace sine curves. But I do not like falling. Especially not in white pants, in public.
May it never happen again.
And still there is that part of me that says, Hey, at least is wasn’t another diabetes-related blood sugar extravaganza. Nothing like a chronic illness to give you a bit of perverse perspective!
And nothing like falling to give you a nasty set of knee-bruises.