Falling Off the Wagon

I fell off the wagon on Friday.

Literally.

Friday morning, with the day off, Chad called and asked if the kids and I wanted to go berry picking. I'm a sucker for berry picking and instantly started the film reel in my head of me, in a long, flowing skirt, wandering the rows of berries, floppy hat on head, basket in hand while the children romped and picked berries, staining their hands and faces with sweet and sticky juice.

My fantasy screeched to a halt when I realized I actually own a long flowing skirt. And a floppy hat.

Excited, I got the kids ready to go. I put on my blue maxi skirt, my light blue tank, and a cream short sleeve sweater in case it was breezy and cool at the Barn. Finally, my vision was going to match reality.

We picked up Chad and drove to the Barn, arriving just in time to catch a ride on the hay wagon out to the berry patch.

Sitting about three and a half feet off the ground, I had to do some maneuvering to shimmy myself into the hay in my long, flowing skirt. Shimmying on hay was not really in my vision. Getting comfortable, I put Elizabeth on my lap and wrapped my arms around her little body while the tractor started the mile or so trip to the patch. My feet brushed the wild mustard, dust flew through the air while we shifted and jolted over water filled pot holes. Finally, we reached the berry patch.

Eyeing the ground, I shimmied to the edge of the wagon and, holding Elizabeth, pushed myself off.

Unbeknownst to me, the cowboy driving the tractor pulling our hay wagon had parked said wagon next to a slope that ended in a slight ditch. As I leaped out, I thought I was going to land about two feet from the wagon.

Instead, I landed on the slope and slid sideways, falling on my hip and leg as I twisted to keep Elizabeth from hitting the ground.

See? Not metaphoric at all.

I literally fell off the wagon.

I landed with an ungraceless thud, my floppy hat flying off in the sudden breeze. Chad stood next to the wagon, his mouth open. Elizabeth screamed. Joseph said, "Where are the berries?"

I struggled to sit up, trying to smile even though my leg and hip stung where I'd hit the ground. I handed Elizabeth to Chad and then waved away the helpful hands of strangers trying to bring me to my feet. My face burned while I brushed off my skirt. That damn long, flowing skirt. Chad helpfully brushed off my back, nearly knocking me over in the process. I accepted my floppy hat from the cowboy, plopping it on my head to hide my red cheeks.

I limped out to the berry patch wondering...

Will the vision ever match the reality?

Also, has someone put a hex on me?