Mother Goose was actually glad that it happened today. It’s always good to get it over with, and then you don’t have to worry about it for another year. Kind of like a gynecological examination.
We’ve been having winter weather this past week — various cocktail mixes of snow, sleet, rain, freezing drizzle, dreezing frizzle, and cloud cover. It’s not entirely unusual weather for our part of the world, but tiresome as it has arrived so late in the winter season.
It would have been nice if March had come in like a lamb and gone out like a lion — that’s what my dear family in nordern Minnesota is experiencing today — lamb-like weather. They’ve had days, maybe even weeks of sunshine and balmy temps.
But not Mother Goose…
And the cabin fever sets in, you know. Days of sitting in doors, looking out the window, pacing the floor, checking the window, glancing at the clock again, until you have a crick in your neck. How much of an indoor sedentary lifestyle can I take? Not much…
So this morning, despite the freshly fallen snow blanketing the unflavored but frozen slushy sidewalks and the blustery winds, Mother Goose bundled up and harnessed her Good Dog Fran. And out we went to meet whatever may befall us.
We had reached the halfway mark of our Walkie Around the Blockie when suddenly the horizon tilted upward for Mother Goose. I always keep my eyes open when I fall so that I know where I’m going, and this time my vision shifted sharply up, up up as I went backwards and down, down, down.
I saw the end of the block, the gray-draped sky over the houses, the skeletal tree tops and then more sky without even trying.
I felt my backside slamming into the ice-covered walk, my back hitting next, followed by my fur-capped head. Bam. Bam. Bam.
Isn’t it funny when you feel like you are falling in slow motion? I always get a chuckle about that perspective of an accident…
Mother Goose smiles.
So there I was laying on the ice with my Good Dog Fran beside me. She was laughing at me which reminded me that maybe someone else may have witnessed my classic slip and fall.
A quick glance assured me that if I had been observed, it was behind lace curtains. If they were also laughing at me, I wouldn’t hear them which is a good thing. If they were at all concerned, they didn’t show it.
Now it was time to perform a rapid inventory to see if we are okay. And by we, I’m referring to Mother Goose, herself and she.
My primitive goose brain shoots an email to all parts of my immediate body (legs, back, neck, shoulders, elbows, cranial region, wrists) to see if they respond in a timely manner. Happily, everybody replied back with smiley-faced emoticons! I gave my good dog Fran a little pet to assure her that we could continue on towards home.
Mother Goose climbed awkwardly to her feet, testing the ice. Yes, sure enough, it WAS slippery. But I kept my big, rubbery feet underneath of me, and cautiously step by step we arrived safely home.
I gave an immediate report of my accident to my dear husband who rose from his chair to embrace the fallen goose. “Are you OK?” he kindly asked. And then the crushing blow… “You know, we aren’t spring chickens anymore.”
“Honk! Honk! I am!” shouted Mother Goose with much indignation. “I am a spring chicken and I shall remain forever so.”
It’s the positive thinking of a goose that matters after all, doesn’t it?
Do you sometimes smile when you are outside on a snowy, icy wintry day and you see lots of old people out driving and walking around? They’ve gone out to see just how slippery it is out there. And that’s how it will always be for Mother Goose…