As skin grazed concrete, she could feel a small wound grow. As blood began to shiver out of the broken capillaries, she held back tears of pain. She silently wished for someone to come help her, or at least for her friends to look away. Her fingers were now stained red by the wound, a testament to her misfortune. Tears dripped down into the new cut, creating a stinging sensation that drove her crazy. As she brought herself to her feet, she could feel embarrassment seeping through her. They laughed at her. She turned around and walked away briskly, so that no one would notice her flaming cheeks. Even though she walks more quickly, she walks more cautiously; every step is taken with utmost care.
It's funny that when we first fall, our steps are never the same again. We are reminded of our fallibility, our mortality. Then, once we have picked ourselves back up, we are ever so careful to avoid the same fate. Yet, we continue to fall. And each time we do, we feel like the same four year old children we all once were. We still get up, though.
The question is not whether we fall. It is how will we get back up? No matter what, we will always fall again- caution is not necessary. We should not be afraid of each new step, but inviting of the opportunity.
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