When our dog Penny was still alive, she would accompany me down the hallway to the trash chute. She could never be left alone, not even for a few minutes. Once the trash and compost bags had been deposited in their respective silver hatches, we would head back to our door. The hallway is extra wide and partially covered, mostly carpeted with bland, industrial strength, carpet squares, the kind that are easy to replace. Once we rounded the corner just past the south elevator, Penny and I would start to skip. Does a dog skip? Yes, Penny could skip. One of her back legs was severely injured before I adopted her and had its own gait, quite conducive to skipping.
As a kid, I loved to skip. It was not as tiring as running, faster than walking, and simply fun. I was not very good at cartwheels. I could do a somersault, but not a backwards one. Although in the pool I think I finally completed a backwards somersault after taking in gallons of the chlorinated pool water up my nose. I liked to hula-hoop and the po-go stick, but skipping was the best, no accessories required.
Waiting for the next adventure or life lesson.
I was forever falling and tripping as a kid, too. My knees and legs always had a scab just waiting to be replaced by a new injury. I don’t remember ever really being in pain. The most pain I recall from tripping was a wound to my pride. Goggy, my mom, and I were headed from the parking lot into JC Penney’s, an anchor store at the local mall. I was happy. We didn’t often go shopping and rarely did all three of us embark on a mall trip. I found a curb next to a decorative bed of plants to walk along. It was like a balance beam only inches from the Earth. I was excitedly talking and walking with my arms outstretched, until I wasn’t. I had tripped over a sprinkler head. I was stunned, not hurt. However, I became hurt and started to cry hot tears as my grandmother embraced me. Her body was shaking. She was laughing because whenever somebody tripped or fell, she laughed. I am not going to analyze whether she thought it was funny or it was nervous laughter. It didn’t matter.
At some point, skipping evaporated into plain, old walking. Tripping decreased too, mainly relegated to the basketball court. Cartwheels and somersaults gave way to lounging with friends on the grass. Underwater acrobatics were replaced with chicken fights for a brief season then pool time was more about the tanning. Some of the scars are still there. Sharing a peaceful coexistence with the memories.
Please excuse me, I think there is a bag of trash that needs to go out.
