Episode 3: Close Call

The ambulance seemed to sag there, like a tired Rhinoceros, in the middle of my narrow gravel driveway.  I didn’t see anyone go inside the house. I had parked in the street, and I watched as the ambulance swayed backward toward the opening to the rest of the neighborhood.

Sunday walked toward me from her car, where she’d parked on the street, too.

 “Have you been getting all the texts?”

“No.”

“I’ve been in with clients all day.  They’ve been blowing up my phone.”

“Who?”

This is the point where I remember that I seem to have 739 people living in my home.  Asking who might be communicating at a particular time is, well, like asking my favorite bite of birthday cake is—how do you know? Does it matter?

Sunday waved the question away.  She was going to follow the ambulance to the emergency room.  We’d talk later.  It was around 4:00pm—We’d talk six hours later. 

What happened?

So, those stairs. 

If you recall, we have stairs in our home, in stark contrast to the ranch homes that Mallory has enjoyed in the Lone Star State.  Going up and down stairs, for her, is akin to climbing a step ladder to get to her bedroom—she doesn’t enjoy the experience.  It ain’t comfortable.

As fate would have it, Mallory & Emma share the same conviction:  she’s against shoes and so is Emma.  You will see Mallory, at times, wearing boots, but I believe that’s just what her Texas passport requires for her to re-enter the Republic. Otherwise, she loves some socks.

When Emma was a small child, we could often give the following instructions, with the same weight of seriousness: buckle your seat belt and keep your shoes on.  If I claim that those days are gone, well, I’d be lying.  Nearly half the time we go anywhere, we have to wait until Emma puts her shoes on to walk into the restaurant or store or wherever. 

Well, in a house with narrow, steep stairs and unshod feet, you can guess what happened.  Mallory found herself at the bottom of the steps, battered—bruised—knocked silly. 

Of course, Sunday called Ashley to let her know that we have stairs.  And Mallory wears socks. And the emergency room takes a while to determine how bad the concussion is.

So, without waiting for the diagnosis, Ashley booked her flight to Virginia. Sometimes, a momma’s visit can keep your feet on solid ground.