I fell the other day.
Like, on my ass. I have the hand-sized, eggplant-colored bruise on my left butt cheek to prove it. I'd take a photo and show you, but I have a moral problem with showing my ass to the internet. Plus: cellulite. I'm sure I needn't say more.
I hadn't fallen in years. If memory serves, it may have actually been 12 years since my previous bail in the dirt. This particular fall was witnessed by all members of my immediate family, and laughed at heartily. It's a humbling experience.
I've been thinking a lot about falling down, metaphorically. We fall, fall, fall, and get back up, dust ourselves off, check out our disgusting ass-bruises in the mirror and then carry on. I wonder if we ever fall, hit our heads, and slip into a coma, but think we got back up and are carrying back on. Like Inception.
I can't address my previous post right now, but I will. I've been thinking about it quite a lot. Thanks for hanging in there.