City life

Falling isn't new to me. Frankly the Ground and I are very well acquainted. The Ground and I made friends when I was a child, and everything looked level until it wasn’t and we spent lots of time together. There isn't a room in my childhood home that I didn't fall in. There isn't a street in my childhood neighborhood that I didn't fall on. I know every indentation, every uneven dip in the pavements and every new rock that appeared for they all forced me to the Ground to say hello.



I eventually donned a pair of the aptly named coke bottle glasses and soon the friendship became more of an acquaintance. In fact, I began to do everything I could to avoid it. In high school, camping was a hardship because the Ground knew I hated to be on it and made the nighttime as uncomfortable as possible. In college, I couldn't simply sit on the grass, in a group of people spewing intelligence because I knew that the Ground was offended I stayed away so long and would find a way to topple me over in the middle of my brilliant diatribe about the truth behind Hamlet's insanity.



Then gradually, my knees grew old and the Ground and I were back to being rather close. I would walk unfamiliar streets and my knees would buckle, bringing me down to say hello to the cold concrete or soft grass on this Ground. I began to treat these little encounters as the way of life and even began to be thankful that I was alive enough to know what it's like to feel the accelerated heart rate. I would examine the new place and marvel at the differences in the fall; pitch wasn't the same as concrete wasn't the same as grass wasn't the same as the edge of a fountain in France.



But today I fell in New York City and it wasn't the same. It was a sunny day and the streets were level. I was enjoying the beautiful air walking slowly and breathing deeply. Then the oddest thing happened. My knees locked freezing me in place. I fell forward hard and fast. Not the funny kind, arms akimbo and legs flailing in a desperate attempt to keep  the inevitable from happening, but the kind that moved so quickly there is no hope of stopping it. I landed face forward and felt every fibre of my being radiate pain from my toes to the tip of my head. Even my place was new, landing on a busy intersection. The sign may have said walk but I wasn’t about to do that any time soon for the Ground immediately cradled me like a long lost lover while I struggled to release my mind and body from it. I was able to lift my face and I tried in vain to look to the sky, the ultimate opposite of the Ground. I was defeated though and the Ground sucked my head back down, dazed and defeated.



Then to my horror, I learned that the Ground had its allies.  As I lay face down, I saw feet walking past me, hurrying past to parts unknown, pausing never. They were so anxious to obey the walk sign, that they couldn't see me down there, helpless and unable to move. By the time I stumbled to my feet, there was no one around and I wondered how they had all been able to move away so quickly.



So now I making the assumption that the Ground wants me and therefore will stalk me wherever I go. Therefore, I have a decision to make. Do I hurry away at the first sighting of Ground preferring to drive and never walk? Or do I simply  pay homage to it,  walking slowly enough to appreciate it or by sitting on its grass periodically? Perhaps then and only then the Ground would let me be and allow me to decide what type of relationship I would like to have.