The Art of Getting Up Again
When�s the last time you fell down?
I usually am steady on my feet. Patti depends on me being steady as she is very unsteady. I am usually the one she can cling to on slippery sidewalks, or walking up steps. Mikayla and Megs are used to jumping on me and me catching them in full flight.
For some strange reason, I tripped and fell on Friday as I was
walking into the office from the back lots.
I skinned my hands and muddied the knees of my pants.
Not the most happy way to start a workday.
I know, a trip is a trip is a trip.
I cannot remember the last time I fell down.
I do know
Mikayla is just past that phase of her life. I admire her ability to stumble as she figures out running is more fun than walking. She�ll just pop right back up and keep on going.
At some point in our lives, we lose that perspective: We fall and feel sorry for ourselves or wait to validate pain or wait for someone to help us to our feet again. For the three-year-old who runs my home, her perspective is all about the goal. The target does not include tripping, but she has not yet begun to figure how long it takes to get from here to there.
She just knows where she wants to be next and she�ll get there the best way she can. If it means dropping and crawling, she�ll do that. If it means hopping and skipping, she�ll do that. And, if it indeed does mean stretching out those arms for help, she�ll do that. I wish we all could remember those simple value judgments We took a rather long walk on Saturday. About halfway back, she decided she had walked enough and informed the Dad it was time to get on his head; she meant on the shoulder while she hung onto the head. It was not expected the request would be denied (and it wasn�t).
She also does it without concern for appearance or what someone else will think of her mode of transportation..
Right now, she has the safety net of not being expected to make big decisions. We�ve all been there. Someone else, usually Mom, Dad or Cissy in Mik-Mak�s case, defines her agenda without consulting her much.
And it doesn�t bother her because life is all pretty much fun right now.
Outside is still a major goal, though why or what will be done once outside is not really part of the thought process.
She knows we all go outside, so there must be a reason to go there. For awhile, she thought we were simply going into the garage for an extended stretch of the day (that�s the connecting door we use most).
She has figured out why the wog goes outside and that the neighborhood cats seldom get to be inside.
At some point in our lives, we all get to go where we want to go when we want to go there. Seriously. We may have expected job appearances or classroom appointments, but it is still, ultimately, our choice whether to go there every day.
I remember this epiphany hit me one morning about 10 years ago as I was plotting my route to a job. It included stops at several places on the way to pick up items I needed for the newspaper I was working on then.
It was all up to me to get them, get to work and to assemble the edition.
I can�t remember when the delicious door to freedom was actually opened. No one ever said to me, �Today, it�s up to you where to go from here.�
Yet it is, for all of us.
So, as I stumbled into the muddy banks of a street in Plymouth one fine Friday, I knew it was not where I had expected to be at that moment. But I remembered the example of Mikayla and picked myself up and kept heading towards the goal.
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