Wednesday, March 29, 2006

Lesson Learned

I haven't skinned my knee since I was ten and I was playing hide and seek with some neighborhood children on a bright summer evening during those years when blackouts were frequent and a part of life. I remember that I ran into a parked car (thereby resulting into a habit of running into poles and posts, slipping off stages, and on one memorable occassion, making a leap from an elevated place to the gym floor, only to land in an unfortunate manner and losing my dignity in front of my third-year PE teacher) and proceeded to recoil from the impact, stumble and piroutte, and land on my hands and knees. Of course I ran howling to my mother, who proceeded to laugh at my misfortune to go against the bumper of the car while dressing my wounds of war.

Today, on my way to the FX terminal along Quezon Avenue, I stepped off the curb, felt my feet slip and my balance shatter, and before I knew it, my face was already inches away from the exhaust pipe of a nearby parked car and and my knee was already intimately acquainted with the curb. To think that wedge sandals come highly recommended as a good alternative since I can't walk a mile in high heels. O_o So there: dignity shattered and legs splayed, my first thoughts were, "Oh shit, Leandro!" Thankfully, my non-amazing instincts had thoughtfully proceeded to shelter my bag and leave my body parts to cushion the expected impact the fall might have to Leandro.

And of course, the FX ride was painful - my knee was throbbing like a thousand tiny fire ants had decided to take residence there, and my palm was scratched and bloodied. I tried to clean it up as best as I possibly could given the cramped space of the FX (my hand, at least) and told myself firmly that warriors and knights have been through worse battle wounds without the benefit of soap and water and alcohol and they survived, so I shouldn't have to worry too much about gangrene and important limbs falling off.

Still, it was a mad rush to the bathroom to have my knee cleaned and bandaged (thank God for being prepared and my dignity recovered. Of course, Norman is still a blessing and a burden: he did call after I told him I tripped and fell, and making sounds of sympathy, but he did tell me to stop wearing skirts. O_o

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