shanmonster | Falling

When my sister and I were very young, our home was lifted up and placed atop a brand new basement. A porch was put in, and in it, a stairwell leading to the basement. At least, it was supposed to be a stairwell. The stairs weren't actually in place at that point, and the basement was a bit flooded, with around two inches of water on the floor.

One winter day,

raine_storm came in from the cold in her snowsuit. She was about three years old, and a bit klutzy. So when she stopped to look into the basement, she tripped and sailed down the shaft end over end to her certain doom. But the elastic stirrup on one of her pantlegs caught on a nail and held, saving her. She dangled just scant inches from the floor, and caterwauled, "I can't swim! I can't swim!"

It wasn't soon after that that my Dad finally put in a guard rail.

And then there was my own fall. Stop me if you've heard this one, because I really can't remember if I've told it or not.

I probably have.

Anyway....

When I was about five years old, I had a little wooden sled, much like Rosebud, only not named. I loved sliding down the hill in my yard, and also loved tromping around with that little sled in tow. One brisk and snowy day, I saw a little depression in the snow, and decided to walk through it. No sooner had I stepped in the hollow that I plummeted neckdeep into an open sewer.

If it had been just a couple of inches deeper, I would have been one of those horrid deaths that people read and laugh about.

Instead, I just ended up with a filthy and stinking, with a bit of a complex about slimy gross things. I still can't stand touching them. And maybe I'm just a tad bit more revolted at the idea of swimming in sewage than the average person, but that's rather difficult to measure, don't you think?