The moment

About a week and a half ago, my sister fell from the attic and into our second floor bathroom (yes, you can’t make this stuff up), and Jon broke his shoulder playing hockey—all in the same day.

It started off as any other Sunday afternoon. I woke up somewhat late, went to church, and had lunch with my mom, sisters, and nephews.  I had a plan—finish my paper that I procrastinated all weekend (typical), in time to go to Jon’s hockey game around 5. But alas, when I realized it was taking me an hour to finish one paragraph, I told Jon that I was sorry, but wouldn’t be able to make it to his game.  Being responsible can be very lame.

 

And so, the day went on…incredibly and miserably slow. I stared at my computer screen clueless and frustrated, often minimizing Word to pay attention to more important things (Facebook).  Around 4ish my sister came into my room and began rummaging my closet, whining that she needed a Halloween costume. I barely looked up from my computer, I just mumbled something like, “I have nothing, trying to write a paper!” She left my room, and shortly after, I heard her pushing boxes out of her way in the attic. I shook my head, and continued to be on facebook, I mean, write my paper.  As soon as I sort of got my act together and started to get a clue as to what would make this paper not suck and fail me out of grad school, I heard an awful awful noise.  It sounded as if the entire attic had fallen to the floor, piece by piece, nail by nail. BOOM.  Pause. BOOM BOOM BOOM. I froze.  “Noriks (my nickname for her)… are you ok??” All I could make out was a faint and teary “Ow.” I got up from my bed panicked and ran to scene of the crime fearing what I would find. I could foresee this was going to be bad.  I pictured her falling from the ladder that led to the attic and onto the hard wood floor. I swallowed hard. And then I saw it. My sister’s leg hanging from a hole in our bathroom ceiling.

After she managed to squeeze herself out of the hole, I stood in the bathroom and stared at the hole dazed.  I mean, how exactly does one fall from one floor and into another? And how often?  My sister didn’t really understand either. And neither did my mom when she ran up the stairs only to find her bathroom ceiling was now nicely decorated with a view of the attic. No one who we now tell the story to get it either. The mysterious haunted loony attic and the girl that fell out of it-DUN DUN DUN. We concluded that perhaps she had stepped on an unstable part of the attic floor, which led to her fall. After all the chaos, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. I felt terrible for doing so, but even she couldn’t keep it in after she iced her leg. My mom got mad at me for laughing, but the next day, she cracked up hysterically at the thought of it. And really, wouldn’t you?

Evidence

 Literally 20 minutes after the incident, I got a text from Jon. Paraphrased it said something like this: “Babe I just wanted to let you know I’m at the hospital, I got hit and injured my shoulder pretty bad at my game so I’m getting scans done. But don’t worry I’ll be ok. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can, I love you.” I just stared at the screen shocked, my heart  feeling like it was out of my body and outside sprinting on the street somewhere, my lunch feeling like it was coming back to remind me. Immediately my brain rushed with terrified thoughts—Is he going to be alright?? Is it severe?? Will his shoulder be forever injured?? And then I thought—What did I say to him last night before he left?? Did I say I love you?? I was supposed to be at the game! I felt helpless, wanting more than anything to turn back time, and punch whoever hit him in the face ( I know, real mature).  I shut my computer, knowing I wouldn’t be finishing my paper anytime soon, and that a long night was ahead of me. I went downstairs, told my mom what happened, and sat close to her for a while wanting to feel safe and comforted. She told me she was sure it was just something minor, and that everything would be ok. I did my best to shrug off the bad and scary thoughts, and took her word for it.

Later that night, Jon broke the news that he was ok, but had suffered a minor concussion, broke his left shoulder, and needed to be in a sling for the next 6-8 weeks—no work, no driving, no nothing but sitting at home and healing. I felt his pain as if it were my own, though he told me was fine.  And despite the fact that the worst was over, I still felt helpless.

The next day I reflected on my crazy day, and thought about the moment. The moment that I heard the BOOM BOOM, the moment that I received Jon’s terrible text.  The moment that I felt my life alter in a span of 5 seconds. The moment I found someone I love in pain—in danger.  Your day can start off perfectly normal, and end tragically—in that moment. Fortunately, I was lucky. My sister and I look back at her accident and laugh, her minor leg injury is gone. Jon is still in a sling and can’t do much of anything except eat lots of candy and watch a lot of T.V , but in a couple more weeks, I know he will be ok.  

So, kiss the one you love a little longer—whether it be your boyfriend/girlfriend, husband/wife, mom/dad, daughter/son, sister/brother, squeeze them even tighter, tell them you love them for the 100^th time—because some aren’t so lucky. For some, the moment can last a lifetime.