Falling

Image Courtesy of Pixabay.com by Sammy-Williams

Knowing these entities, or whatever they were, told my father that they meant him no harm, may not have extended to the rest of the family.

    One afternoon, my father was at work and my mom was home alone with me, she busied herself with chores. The duplex was a two-story home and built in the 1920's. Dark wood trimmed most walls and the staircase had a solid banister. 

    As she started down the steps, pregnant with my brothers at this time, she said she felt something push her legs forward, right out from under her. She landed on her hip and hit each step as she tumbled toward the bottom landing. While she banged down each step, she grabbed for the spindles on the railing, hoping to stop her fall, but broke a few fingernails without stopping her descent.

    When my father came home, he found her bruised, with a large lump on her hip, and terrified. Relaying her story, she ended by suggesting calling a priest. My dad agreed. 

    She contacted the Episcopal parish where we belonged, but for whatever reason they couldn't align their schedules and he wasn't able to meet with my parents. 

    Until she passed away on August of 2012, she carried a knot on her hip as a reminder of her time on West Street.

    Benevolent? Doesn't seem like they were toward her.

    Thank you for reading and drop a comment below so I know you were here. 

Next time: Unwelcomed