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I was up by six a. m. and the moment my bare foot touched the hardwood floor I knew this was going to be one fantastic day. Unbidden song escaped my lips. Really. I was tying my tie when I heard singing. I looked up to see if I could find out where it was coming from and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror singing. It was me. And even after I had become self-conscious it didn't make me stop.
I hummed through the brushing of my teeth. I posed in the mirror and I swear, my elephantine physique actually looked good. No lie.
I modified a Beatle song. Something in the way I move. Attracts me like no other lover. Something in the way I move me.
I gathered up three books, a binder, and four files full of student compositions. The digital clock in my bedroom said 6:31 . I was ahead of schedule.
I eased out the door, jockeyed my load in order to lock the door, locked it, jockeyed things back to even out my load, and turned to take those three little steps off my porch. I was heading first to the walkway, then my Toyota patiently waiting to take me to work.
That's when it happened. My foot rolled on an acorn. At least I think it was an acorn. Whatever it was, it put me off balance. Then, trying not to fall, I threw myself into flailing contortions and that put me even further out of balance. Recovery was impossible.
In about two-tenths of a second I was sprawled on the sidewalk in front of my steps. You know how people talk about stuff they do so that when they fall they land right? It's not true. At least it's not true for me. Gravity had everything to do with how I fell and I had nothing to do with how I landed. Once the tumbling stopped it took me a second to realize that I was laying on my back. I was looking up through the branches of the Tulip tree. Then a face entered my field of vision.
A jogger, bobbing by, witnessed the spill. He was a young kid, probably a high school track and field jock.
"You okay, mister?" he asked.
"I don't know," I said. I didn't either. I didn't feel good, but did I feel okay? Was anything broken? Any tendons torn, or stretched? Any internal bleeding? Abrasions? Contusions? Concussions? Lacerations?
I wiggled my ankles. They seemed okay.
"Let me help you up," said the jogger.
I rolled over on my stomach and got up into a crawling position. I felt the pain in my knee then. My jogger buddy helped me to a standing position.
"There you go," he said.
My books and folders and upgraded papers were scattered on the ground around me like a paper patch work quilt. Without a word, as soon as I saw I was standing all right, the boy began gathering my stuff up. I checked the pain in my knee. My dress slacks were torn at the knee and the fabric showed traces of dirt and blood.
"Jesus," I said.
"You're going to be all right?"
"Yeah," I said. "I'm fine. I sat down on the steps. I felt like I was going to start swaying and one fall a day is my limit. I needed a firm foundation to keep me steady. The boy stacked the books, the binder, and the files beside me.
"What happened?"
"I'm not sure," I said. "I was taking a step and I guess I stepped on one of those damn acorns of something."
"It was a bad fall."
"It was fast, that's for damn sure."
"But you're going to be okay?"
"Yeah," I told him. "I'll be fine. Thanks for your help. I have to go back in and change pants. You go on and finish your run. And thanks."
It may have sounded like I was wanting my jogger friend to go, but that's only because that is what I was wanting. I was embarrassed.
"Okay," said the boy. He turned to jog off, and then stopped and turned back to appraise me evenly. "Adam didn't fall any worse," he said, waved and went. Thirty seconds later the boy was down the street, around the corner, and out of my sight.
I went back inside to change. I washed the knee and put on some antiseptic ointment. Then I picked a darker shad of pants so the oil from the ointment wouldn't show.
I didn't sing. There was no humming. The entire house seemed to encase a palpable gloom. I couldn't get the boy's words out of my mind. Adam didn't fall any worse? I mean, what the hell did that mean? Adam who? Did one of his jock friends take a stupid, clumsy fall, but even dorky ole Adam's fall had more grace than mine? I should've asked him.
It was on the drive to work that it occurred to me that the boy might have been thinking of Adam as in Adam & Eve fame. Could he have meant the fall of Adam? The fall from grace. I knew my fall wasn't graceful. But was it a fall from grace?
I drove on. It was a long time before I dared to sing again.
Tex Norman is a Child Welfare Specialist working in the area of permanency planning. His job is to work with families to eliminate risk factors that have caused their children to come into the Department of Human Services system due to abuse and neglect. He has a number of books published POD through Lulu, and a novel (The Wewoka Switch) and a book of poetry (Portrait of a Poet As A Wild Hare) both are available through on line book sellers like Amazon, Books-a-Million and Barns and Nobel. Tex has been married for 38 years, and is very proud of his 30 year old son, Ryan Norman, who is about to complete his PhD at Princeton University doing research related to the formation of the spinal card.
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