Years and years ago I got this doll thing. I guess you would call it a doll, period. But it was not exactly a doll. It was, but it was, well, yellow for one thing. And maybe the yellow was feathers. I don’t know. It was a little bigger than a Barbie (and this should probably be followed by a “TM” so Mattel consider this noted that the Barbie is your creation). And the dress thing was yellow. But it wasn’t really a dress. It was shaped like a big, full skirted, dress. The dress actually being part of the doll. I can’t explain it fully so just accept this as the description. It doesn’t really matter any way.
I don’t remember being in to dolls. But for some reason I had this doll thing. As a side note I also had a doll head with a make up tray. It was the only make up I ever owned in my life. And I am pretty sure that doll head looked like a street walker because I had (have) no make up artistry ability at all. But the yellow doll thing I remember carrying around. Though I do not know why. This doesn’t matter either.
And I carried it over to school. And for some reason I went behind the church. And there, planted in the concrete, was a monkey bar type contraption. You could stand on the concrete sidewalk and jump on to the bars. The bars that were planted in to the pavement. I am not sure who’s brilliant idea it was to put metal pipe bars in the pavement for children to play on shaped like this:
It had been raining. It might still have been drizzly.
The pipes were wet.
I was stupid.
I jumped up on the bar (by the way I do believe that middle bar right above my well drawn head is a mistake, other wise it is an exact replica).
With the doll in my hand. Still.
I leaned across the bar on my belly. Holding the bar by my hip with one hand. The bar and the doll with my other hand on the other side of my hip. And I just held there for a minute.
No one was around.
I thought I might as well do a somersault on the bar since I was there.
So I propelled myself forward.
The next thing I recall I was on my back. With my head resting against the sidewalk/curb.
The doll was in my hand.
There are so many points to make about this. Let’s leave out the obvious about the level of my intelligence as a child. We will just say I was brave!
The most important parts are: I could have died that day!
Do you all realize this? How close was I to death? I have no idea how long I actually lay there. It could have been days for all I know. And having so many siblings it really could have been days and no one missed me because I’m pretty sure we didn’t do head counts.
Had I died what in the world would you be doing right now? Not reading this blog I can tell you that much!
What’s my point?
Well consider this….how many little things happen in our every day that is just a mere fraction away from giving us different outcomes in life? What if my head had landed a fraction of force more? Or less? Or to the left? Or to the right?
Your lives would all, right this minute, be missing something. And you wouldn’t even know what it is!!!
I am not touting my own importance here. Well, okay, I kind of am. Maybe that fall and hit to my head is what instilled all of this fabulous writing ability? Who knows?
But I just want to point out to you all that there are little things every day that go a certain way to get us where we are. Today. Maybe that happened to me so long ago so I could write about it all these years later. So I could say hey….some things are more important than others. Little things do matter. And we should really enjoy and appreciate the good things.
And just to contradict myself….
Little things don’t need to matter. I got up that day, wet, hurting, sore, my doll thing was still in my hand. I went home. It didn’t matter that I fell. It mattered that I got up. No one knew about it. I sure wasn’t going to tell anyone about it (I knew better than to give that ammo to my siblings). It could have ended differently. But it didn’t. So until I needed it to make this point today, it had no purpose.
Other than all of the issues I will now freely blame upon that fall.
Little things. They make a difference. And they don’t have to. That my friends is a brilliant statement.