It’s a family joke that I can’t eat without wearing my food or walk without tumbling into something or someone. It’s reality that I’m just clumsy. I always have been.
As a grown up, my clumsiness has lost it’s charming quality. Where once I felt like I could laugh about this, now it makes me more than mildly embarrassed.
I often look up in the mirror and ponder where I got that mysterious stain. Or I find some random bruise or scratch and don’t know where it came from.
Aren’t I supposed to be past that now? Aren’t I supposed to be collected and put together by this age?
I guess I’ll never be one of those people who make it through the day without a minor, or not-so-minor, mishap. But I really wish that I was.
IMAGE SOURCE: Security / Pixabay