I am not even sure how it happened, but I was carrying a window screen that was dusty and needed to be cleaned. The boys were playing basketball on the driveway, so I must have looked up at precisely the wrong time.
I do remember thinking SHE’S GOING DOWN and, just before I hit the concrete, I managed to do a quick scan to see how many neighbors were about to witness the spectacle. (Please do not even ask why I think of myself in the third person when I am about to do something really embarrassing, but I do.)
I landed right in the middle of the potted mum plants, and Andrew and David came running.
I tried to quickly survey the situation--a burnish on my right palm, a skinned knee, and a big goose egg had already formed on the outside of my twisted left ankle.
The boys came running and I started to cry when I realized that I wasn’t sure if I could get up without help.
Andrew said, “I’ll go get Dad.”
And David, after a moment of hesitation, announced “I go get a tissue.”
Have you ever heard such beautiful words? I appreciate that Andrew ran quickly to get help, correctly surmising that Michael would be the best suited to hoist me up off of the front porch.
But, today I am thankful that David can be sympathetic when I am hurt. He pays attention to how I am feeling and tries to help, in his own way. Not all kids with autism can do that.
I will be fine. The doctor said nothing is broken.
And then called back to say maybe something is just a little bit broken.
But it will heal with time.
I am sorry to report that the mums, however, did not survive the ordeal.