Free Fallin’

I am a very clumsy person—so clumsy, that I used to consider myself to be like Lizzie McGuire. I would fall anywhere and everywhere you could possibly imagine. And at one point, it was so ridiculous, that I started getting back up immediately and yell, “I’m okay!”

So I guess you could say that I was more like Raven Baxter.

I wish that I was exaggerating this, but I swear that I am not. When Caitlyn and Heinrich were little, we used to have a gate separating the living room from the kitchen in our house, and that gate was the culprit of many of my falls. Definitely not all of them, but a good number was because of that gate.

I hated that gate.

But this isn’t about the gate. This is about the time I fell down the basement stairs.

The basement in Oma’s house is unfinished; the floor at the bottom of those stairs is all concrete. And one day, yours truly was basically running down the stairs to get something for Oma really quick. I don’t remember what for exactly, but I remember her asking me to get her something.

So anyway, I went halfway down the stairs before tripping over the ghost that was apparently sitting about a quarter down the stairs, and I fell so hard that you would have thought I was going to get severely injured. Thankfully, I didn’t.

But at the bottom of those stairs at the time was a portable radiator. A metal radiator was at the bottom of these stairs. I don’t recall if I was wearing glasses at that moment in time (I’ve been in glasses since I was eleven), but I hit my forehead on this freaking radiator, glasses in one piece.

I also don’t remember if I cried. (I probably did.) But I’m pretty sure that’s how my memory got so messed up. I was probably fifteen at the time of this incident, and I was almost completely unscathed, minus the dent in my head. I had that dent for like a week and a half.

I was lucky it was summer vacation.

I have definitely mentioned at least once before that I have a spotty memory. And I’m not really sure when that started to happen, but I am pretty sure this fall is what messed it up. Note that I can be completely wrong about this accusation, but my mind is made up. It’s also a little dented to this day, but barely. I can feel it when I touch my head, right by my hairline.

So that was my second traumatic time that I remember as Amanda Hazard. Thanks for listening to my story time, as well as me complaining for however long it took you to read this. I’m sure I will have another one of these, depending on whether or not I’m in the mood, or if it’s in a prompt.

Enjoy the rest of your Sunday, because some of us have work tomorrow.

Prompt: Write about a time you have fallen down. Was it dramatic, or did you make it so? Did you have to go to the hospital?

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A twenty-two year old who lives through words and her Netflix account. She makes herself laugh more than others, and she claims that she is okay with that.

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