thoughts in the mornings

A day that starts with a good night

The day already felt possible and the woman was grateful for the shift that had taken place. The latest fall, whilst not especially dramatic had nonetheless left a perturbance in her body that had made sleep tricky for a few nights. It was a familiar pattern and she wasn't particularly troubled by it but it had made sleep even more of a challenge the usual for a few days and so she was glad that it was passing.

Since she had been diagnosed with MS all those years ago, her life had been full of falls and over the years, she had become accustomed to the possibility that she just might not feel her feet and this would lead to a trip, a stumble or sometimes a full on splat to the ground. Some falls had been excruciating, like when she broke her arm on a hilltop in Ireland. Others had just been embarrassing.

She recalled a time when she had been wearing a powder pink crombie coat. It was long and it was striking and it looked amazing. it had actually been her late wife's and was so lovely, she didn't want to get rid of it. Instead, in the early days of widowhood, she had taken it to a local tailor and had it adjusted to her size. looking back, she could see it was another attempt to keep her wife close and to be fair, it wasn't a bad attempt. She'd tried the knee high black boots because they had the same foot size but they had looked ridiculous on her. What looked great on one, looked silly on another so she'd put the boots up for sale on Vinted and stuck to her own converse high tops.

The pink crombie however had cut a certain dash and with a couple of magical adjustments, it fit well. She wore it on the days she felt less raw. She wore it to be seen. She was certainly seen on the day she was feeling like she looked ok and then, without warning, missed her footing and fell.

She fell in front of the school gates, hat flying, stick discarded. Fortunately, she had experience of falls and a sense of her own inner movie that was always taking place so she was able to roll and return to standing without too much delay. It was also fortunate that the children hadn't yet come streaming out of the playground and so she was able to get straight back up before too much was observed. It was a lifelong response to feeling embarrassed. Get up and keep moving even if it's agony.

The hat too had been an addition, a part of the new costume of survival and she had enjoyed the extra talking point. Her walking cane was a carved, intricate piece that she had found when stumbling around Brighton. The hat was hand made and remained, all these years later, one of her favourite things. Together, the hat and cane seem to take some of the pain out of actually needing a stick to be able to walk.

Why am I sitting here writing about all my falls she asked herself. Falls and fairytales. The themes of life. Fall over, get up, dust yourself off and keep on going. Dignity intact or not? Doesn't matter really she thought. I've spent too much time in my life trying to look cool and be accepted and caring what other people think.

Now however, I'm just delighted that I'm here, that I have people who love me and who I love. Amazing what a decent night's sleep can do for your perspective she thought. It was definitely going to be a good day.