See what had happened was that I had no patience. Head swimming with a long to-do list, little bird heartbeat, little feet taking me to and fro. Sometimes it’s no fun to be this short, cute as it may be, I gots stuff to do, let me hang this poster myself, can’t wait for help. Blue painter’s tape on the corners, giant question mark on butcher paper. Not high enough. not wearing heels and arms are too short even as I reach and reach. Quick, grab the chair. The mama in me says hell no, chairs are dangerous, you’ll fall and get hurt. Don’t like pain. Why do you think I don’t ski or snowboard? No bones of mine have ever broken. Don’t want to hear the crunch. Don’t want the plaster or the pills. But this poster has to be higher. Lean the chair against the wall. Step up. Who says folding chairs are the worst? Poster moves up a foot or two. I’m about to pat down the last corner when the chair gives way.
You don’t see stars when you hit the ground. No I saw the spinning of the earth on its axis. I saw planets in orbit, asteroids, Saturn and its rings.
I fall backwards, land on the ground. Chair topples and clamps around my left leg like a bear trap. Grit teeth. No cry of pain, not even tears that usually flow so easily. Try to get to my feet too quick, right foot twists as I try to rise.
Custodian comes around the corner. “Why are you on the ground?” I shake free of the trap. Both legs throb. Cheeks burn. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’ll walk it off.”
Limp to the office. Don’t take the ice that is offered. Left leg is purple and has an imprint of a toothless jaw. Right foot aches but I didn’t hear the snap.
Six hours later, can’t walk.
Two hours later, leave the ER with my right foot in a bandage and orthopedic shoe and my left leg on fire.
Gotta listen to that mama voice.