Sympathetic Words

Just about the time that I begin to think I have one too many things on my plate, I do something really talented like fling myself out my front door and onto the concrete of the porch.

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.