I fell last night. Over a baby gate. Down, down, down I tumbled in the darkness, after stubbing my toe at the base of the gate.
“WTF?” I thought to myself, though I didn’t use the acronym. “Oh, yeah. The baby gate.”
You may ask why I have a baby gate up in the hallway in the middle of the night. No, I wasn’t babysitting my sweet grandson, Tommy.
It’s because we have a new puppy! We brought him into our home–our cats’ home–a month ago, and we the cats are still adjusting. I had the brilliant idea of putting the baby gate up in the hallway so the cats could have a little peace (especially while eating) in the back part of the house.
And so, when, just before bed, I had to check to make sure the front door was locked just one more time, I took what felt like a very slow motion plunge (I recall thinking, “Let’s get this over with already–just HIT THE GROUND!) to the hardwood floor.
It hurt so much I couldn’t hold back the tears, especially when Steve put his arms around me and asked “Are you okay?”
Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve cried over a fall?
As I climbed into bed post-fall, I decided we need to add a night light in the hallway–not for Tommy, but for Grandma–along with the baby gate for the puppy.
With my toe and knees throbbing, I drifted to sleep and wondered how sore I’d be in the morning. But now, as I sip my first cup of coffee, I’m just fine–only a little sore on my knobby knees. I’m grateful for that.
And yes, for Obi, too.