On January 11th, in my haste to catch the A train about to leave the station at W. 4th Street, I fell…hard and in front of a shitload of people no less.
I left work at Rockefeller Center, boarded the downtown D train as I normally do, got off at W. 4th, and made my way up the steps to catch the next A or C train headed to Brooklyn. There was a guy in front of me slowly ascending the steps while he gazed down at his phone, and in an effort to circumvent his molasses-ness and get on the A train that was about to leave the station, I sidestepped him wearing 4 inch heels on dirty, wet steps which were remnants from the bomb-cyclone that had the East Coast hunkered down a week earlier. My left foot slipped, and then my right foot tried to overcompensate for my off-balance motion. Before I knew it, I was on the ground landing hard on my right knee in a light-colored dress with my hands and part of my coat covered in wet grime.
A few people helped me up and asked if I was okay, and I quickly thanked them as I rushed to get on the crowded A train before the doors closed. Yes, I was NOT about to miss that train! It was only then while leaning against the subway door as the train headed to Canal Street that the pain began to set in. The skin on my bleeding right pinky finger above my cuticle was gone, and my right knee was throbbing. I thought I might have a small bruise on it since my stockings weren’t torn. When I got home I realized that my fall, which stemmed from my impatience, also included a nice sized chunk of skin missing on the same spot from when I fell and skinned up my knee as a kid.
I laughed and was annoyed at myself all at once. The A train stalled at the station with the doors open for another 20 seconds after I’d boarded which meant I could have taken my time and not tried to run around the slow guy on his phone. Why was I always in such a rush? What was so important besides getting home quickly, kicking off my heels, taking off my bra, and pouring a glass of Merlot that I couldn’t wait? Although, those are really great reasons to rush home... I’m just saying! Were my injuries worth getting home 10-15 minutes sooner? Even if I had missed that train, I knew another would come eventually.
Once I got home I cleaned up my wounds, got an ice pack for my swollen knee, and sat down to watch TV as I thought about how I often try to rush things (and myself) in life when the best route is to take your time. I also thought about how quickly I jumped back up and got on that train. My wounds would not be in vain! Dear peeps, 2018 has just started, and if I have one take-away thus far from the lessons I’ve unintentionally forced myself to relearn already this year, it would be to go with the flow even if you feel like it’s not moving at the pace you would like it to. Trust the process of your life and realize that if you try to rush the situations you face or attempt to resolve something by yourself after you’ve already given it over to God, you will most likely do more harm than good! And if you do fall, ALWAYS get back up, no matter how dirty, hurt, or embarrassed you may be!
Dust yourself off and try again, and you will get to wherever you need to go in due time!