Yesterday, I was minding my own business in the Family Room (watching TV), when all of a sudden, I heard a scream. This was the type of scream that is typically reserved for nuclear war, tax increases, and at those who cruise at 10 mph below the speed limit. But through the miracle of…genes, I recognized these vocal emissions as those from a daughter (I didn’t know which one, just that I was somehow, unfortunately related to this scream.)
In high school, I couldn’t run faster than a 15 minutes per mile pace, or than 50 yards (our front door, to the school bus). But yesterday the shame was that there was no witness to see me fly down the backyard stairs and out into the lawn, where Lucy stood, petrified, tears- still screaming.
“Lucy!”, I yelled, trying my best to overcome her voice, “What is wrong!!!?”
“A bug!”, she exclaimed. She raised her arm to show me, just as the mysterious insect flew away. I examined her arm, to see where she had been attacked. For such a small bug, whatever pain it had inflicted upon her, I knew that I had only minutes to perform first aid, before whatever poison this thing possessed, took over her five year old body.
But there was nothing. At all. She calmed down and I could see that she was perfectly unharmed. Just scared.
On the other hand, I sustained an arm, leg and foot injury as I had barely objected to gravity, pretty much falling down the stairs, with a manner that one would barely called “controlled.”