Mechanic Falls

MECHANIC FALLS — I fell down. In the middle of downtown Mechanic Falls I dropped to all fours. I was returning home from Kathy's Diner with my two daughters on the day of the snowstorm. I thought it would be a good idea to walk to breakfast with my girls. The vision of a steaming cup of coffee in my hands kept me trudging forward in the wind and snow. I didn't anticipate the white stuff to be coming down sideways, but the air felt good in my lungs after a bout with pneumonia that kept me housebound for several weeks during the holidays. My legs felt strong against the snow that was piling up fast. I was exhilarated. My girls, on the other hand, whined the entire way. They brazenly accused me of torture. When I laughed in their faces and told them I used to sled all day long in this sort of weather they suggested I was rapidly losing cognitive ability because no one in their right mind would play, never mind walk a half a mile in a blizzard.

I looked around. Mechanic Falls was a ghost town. It was wonderful. The breakfast was wonderful and my girls were wonderful. Until it was time to head back home. A few more cars were on the road then, but the snow had piled up even more and the walk back was harder. My legs were getting tired and my girls ran ahead, vowing to never have this experience again. That's when I fell. The snow had accumulated so much I couldn't see where the edge of the road dipped into the parking lot of the library. I took a step and one foot sunk a good six inches lower than the other and down I went. Not quite a face plant, but close. Okay, I admit it. A middle-aged woman wiped out in a snow bank in the center of town is funny. So funny, in fact, that one of my daughters laughed so hard she doubled over in that way women do when they are trying really hard not to, you know, lose it. She had to duck into the doorway of the library to avoid being seen. My other daughter just pointed at me and laughed. Was I humiliated? A little. Did I say, "What the heck, show a little compassion?" Yes. Eventually they came to my aid. They made sure my legs were still attached to my body and then they ran home.

I wasn't mad. I was remembering when I was a kid and the crust of snow that would form at the end my mitten. It left a red welt inside my wrist. It was the price I was willing to pay for the thrill of careening down hills on my sled managing to squeeze under the barbed wire fence and shredding yet another jacket. Frozen toes and chapped faces were a given.

"A little pain and discomfort is part of the adventure," I yelled to my girls. They didn't hear me. What else is new? I got up, rearranged my hat, smiled at the tear in my jeans and tromped home. It was my adventure for the day.

Any adventures you'd like to share? My email is mitsou7@msn.com.