It was not a huge set of steps, though enough to injure anyone who fell over them. And that is what happened! My seventy-seven year old mother fell down the eight steps in her apartment. She opened the outside door and brought the basket of laundry onto the landing. Somehow, Mom lost her footing and down she tumbled, laundry, basket and all. She hurt herself badly but did not break any bones.
There was a closet at the bottom of the steps where Mom hung up her outer wear. However she also had a bin in the bottom of the closet where she kept vegetables if her fridge was full. When Mom landed at the bottom of the steps, her head hit the closet door which came off track and fell on her. When she finally stopped tumbling, her head was on the floor of the closet.
"What a knock I gave meself," she told everyone. She had injuries to her head, legs and arms. One cut bled a great deal. She was battered.
When Mom told me about her fall it reminded me of the time I was preparing for one of Claire's birthday parties. Walking down into the family room with my arms full, I was unable to see the steps. I tripped and my head went through the wall. I had a huge bump on my head and I saw stars. There was a huge hole in the wall as well.
So I asked Mom, "Did you see stars after you hit your head?"
"Stars? Stars? All I saw was turnips," was the reply.
That was Mary Pretty, our mother.
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