Must have been some kind of small rock on the sidewalk. That’s my guess. I felt something under my right shoe as I was falling.
The first word out of my mouth was “Shit!” I looked to my left, then to my right to see if anyone had seen me. Nope. I got lucky.
I’m 58-years-old. When a guy falls at my age, they can break a hip. I just tested my hip, whatever that means, and it’s fine.
I pulled myself up—not really a big deal. I remember my mother falling once when I was a kid—she was inside the house—and she couldn’t get up. I never understood this. What’s the big deal about getting up after a fall? I never asked her what the problem was. She’s dead now, so I’ll never hear her answer.
After I got up, I checked myself over. No blood, no torn pants, no nothing.
I continued my walk up to Madison Avenue. I thought of the walks I had made before having cataract surgery in March. With my limited eyesight, I was very careful back then as I didn’t want to fall. Now that my eyesight is what it should be, I’m less careful. In turn, I fell down.
Lesson learned? Always be careful when walking and look for small rocks on the sidewalk.
If I don’t fall down again, I’ll write another post on Saturday.
(Image found on Google)