I don’t envy graceful people, because I bet their stories aren’t very good.
“Hey, remember that one time that I was so graceful and poised and navigated my way through all those things that could have so easily made me fall flat on my face?”
Good stories need conflict. No one likes a story without a conflict, because that’s not a story.
That being said, here’s my story, completely devoid of grace.
All bad things happen at inopportune times: like passing out after the second of three shots that you absolutely must get on that particular day, like getting stuck in the turnstiles at a train station at rush hour, like getting lost when you actually didn’t allot time to get lost today.
Like stubbing three toes on the half centimeter high threshold of your door while you’re cooking zucchini and pasta that are almost done. Not only stubbing them but stubbing them. Instant nausea, and that’s before you realize that you’re bleeding. Then you see the blood and start breathing deeply. Not going to pass out, not going to pass out.
So you hobble into the kitchen to get a wet paper towel and wipe up the blood. You wrap the paper towel around your toes so it’ll stay in place while you walk, thinking you’re only bleeding from the top of your toes.
No such luck.
After you turn down the zucchini and stir the pasta and stumble into the bathroom to wash your hands and further examine the damage, you go back to the kitchen only to discover that you’ve tracked spots of blood down the hallway. Oh how lovely. You weren’t just bleeding a little from the top of your toes.Re-wrap toes, re-trace steps, clean up blood. Rinse out the rug you stepped on while bleeding, hang it up to dry. Rinse out the slipper sock that you were wearing when you stubbed – the one that you just washed yesterday – and hang it up to dry, too.
Search for the band-aids. Find the band-aids.
Remember the pasta! It’s going to be mushy! But by the grace of God, it is al dente, and you bandage your toes and pray they aren’t broken because they feel broken. Then you eat your lunch.
Zucchini heals stuff, right?