The Fall

         The alarm clocked buzzed in the dark.  Through the fog my arm came out from the covers to shut it off.  The memories of the night before came flooding back over me.

         Kayla, my 15 year old, riding her horse carefree as ever.  She had loved that.  It was her favorite past time.  Promising to be home by 5:00 p.m. that afternoon Kayla took off at 4:00 p.m. for a short ride through the backfields and a trail that took her past the beaver dam.  It was a favorite route of hers.

         Kayla had taken the trail down by the pond and apparently stopped for a while to watch a beaver working on his dam.  Then her horse got spooked and as he took off running,  Kayla hung on for a while, twisting and turning with the wild ride around trees and brushes.  Suddenly not seeing a branch, Kayla was knocked from the saddle, striking her head on a rock.

         I had been sitting on the back porch when her horse had returned to the house that afternoon only a short half hour after they had left that afternoon, only he was alone.  My heart had jumped right up to my throat.  As I had whistled for the horse to come to me, I began praying earnestly to myself that Kayla was safe.  Lord, what would I do without that child.  For as long as I had been blessed with Kayla, it had been just her and I.  She kept me going most of the time.  She was a spirited one that kept the light of life around this house when things were tough.

         As the horse came close, he was breathing hard from his expended run.  I talked to him, asking him about Kayla, he snorted and stamped his feet, yet I sensed he knew.  I wasted no time.  I jumped on him and started retracing Kayla’s ride that day.  Coming upon her still body only made my fears climb.  Rousing enough to make sure she was at least alive, I was able to get her on the horse and back to the house.

         Reaching the house, calling 9-1-1 and waiting for the ambulance to arrive seemed like time was in slow motion.  It was only minutes, but it might has well been hours.  Kayla was able to talk to me and remembered what had happened, but she was dizzy and couldn’t stand without becoming extremely nauseous.

         By the time we got to the hospital, it seemed like several hours had passed, though in reality a mere half hour had gone by.  After a few tests and a thorough exam, severe concussion was what the doctor said.  Kayla had been fortunate.  She was able to go home as long as she was awakened every two hours through the night.

         I rolled over and looked at the clock and knew I needed to get up and check her, yet the memories continued.  Sighing, I rose from the warmth of the bed and made my way down the hallway to Kayla’s room.  Gently shaking her awake, making sure she awoke from her concussive sleep, I spoke to her eliciting her name, age and the date from her.

         Satisfied she was alert, I sat beside her and stroked her hair watching her as she dozed back to sleep.  How thankful I am that she is not hurt more seriously.  She is too strong-willed to get hurt more than this, I smile to myself.  Kayla had always had a way of surviving the toughest of ordeals.

         She had spent many of her childhood days sending my adrenaline into overtime with her excursions and antics, yet her injuries were always nil.

         I knew her guardian angel worked overtime with her most days, weeks, years even, but thanked God every day Kayla made it through her scrapes.  She showed no fear and was always back for more.  I have no doubt this concussion wouldn’t keep her down for long either.

         I slowly make my way down the hall to my warm bed.  In two hours, I will be back to check on her when that alarm clock buzzes in the dark.