I’ve been going through a rocky patch lately; trying to make sense of it all and pull it together.
Then I remembered one of those small moments that don’t really mean much when they happen. But years later, as you’re walking down the street alone, they come back to you and you start to giggle as it all sinks in. (On cue, passersby give you strange looks and you don’t give a shit.)
So, I few years back I took a colossal tumble down the subway stairs at Grand Central. It was monumental. I caught my heel in the cuff of my trousers and rolled down the stairs like a cartoon. I could practically see the “OOF! OW! ACK! AAARGH!” written in technicolor lettering around me.
The worst part was that I was wearing my viking helmet. I don’t even know why–it wasn’t Halloween. I guess I just wanted to wear it that night.
(Before you ask–yes, this happens more often than I care to admit.)
Anyway, I went stumbling down the stairs and the viking helmet went rolling in another direction.
There were about five seconds of shocked silence until this really nice guy grabbed the helmet, picked me up off the ground and placed the helmet back on my head.
He said, “Girl, don’t let this break your stride. You keep on.”
Not sure where that guy is now–but if you’re reading this: thanks.