The Shadow
It was a bad thing, that turned into a pretty good thing.
Last week, I went to Lewisburg to the hair salon. When I was all primped up, I walked across the street to Corn and Flower Bakery. It’s almost always a stop for me. We have access to so few bakeries that, when we find one, we’d better support it.
I picked up my bag of purchases, and went out the door. There are two concrete steps at the bakery entrance. I took the first, didn’t even see the second, and went sprawling – hard – across the concrete sidewalk. It hurt so bad, I could only moan and stay still.
“Are you all right?” a bystander asked.
“No. But I might be in a day or two,” I groaned.
Soon, a small crowd gathered. The two people behind the bakery counter came running out. And a couple with their toddler and infant arrived. All of them gathered around me, and started asking about various parts of my anatomy.
“Please get my head up off the ground,” I begged. “I’m dizzy.”
The bakery guy held my head. The wife with the infant gathered my bakery bag. The woman behind the counter picked up my purse.
Then, the helpful group set about getting me into an upright position. This was no easy task. Should they call the rescue squad? Oh, please no.
I had slammed into the sidewalk on my left side. My knee, my hip, my elbow and my shoulder hurt like the dickens. I could barely move. The bakery guy told me to put my arm around his neck and hug him. So, I did.
The father, who had a flower tucked behind his ear (I guess this came from the girly toddler), helped to push me up from behind. Passersby began to gather, some gawking, others offering to help hoist me up. “I love an audience!” I managed to joke.
That task finally managed, someone tucked a chair under my butt, and I was sitting up. Ah. I decided to stay there for a bit.
During the fall, I had heard something clack onto the sidewalk. But I couldn’t worry about that just then.
Finally, the kindly couple with the kids offered to walk me to my car. I thought this was a splendid offer. So, down the street we trooped – the man holding my arm, the wife carrying my bags, the baby snug in her Snuggly, the toddler dancing about, with her shoes on the wrong feet.
“Your shoes are on the wrong feet,” I observed.
“She wouldn’t have it any other way,” the mother sighed.
I left Lewisburg and headed home. Other errands would have to wait. I was hurting and rather dazed.
Just as I left West Virginia and hit the Virginia line, I thought I’d better get out my cell phone.
It was not in my pocket.
Aha! That clacking, falling sound I’d heard.
What to do? I certainly didn’t want to head back to Lewisburg. I wanted home!
I pulled into the Virginia Welcome Center and hobbled inside. I explained my predicament, and a very nice woman behind the counter looked up the bakery’s number, and dialed it on her cell phone. I knew the bakery closed in just 15 minutes. I’d drive back tomorrow to get the phone.
The bakery woman said she remembered my phone on the sidewalk.
“Isn’t it in your purse? That’s where I think I put it.”
I hadn’t looked, but I did and – voila! – there was the phone. I was ecstatic!
I couldn’t adequately thank the folks who helped me in some way or another. And to have found the phone and put it into my purse? Priceless!
I was hurting like all get out by the time I got home. My elbow was swollen in an ugly fashion. I had cracked a rib. It’s a blessing I didn’t break my arm. But, I couldn’t have been happier and more thankful. Helpful strangers … you gotta love ‘em!
