Walking alone

This morning we drove down to Faust Park for our walk. I helped Bob out of the car and was trying to get him to see the building that houses a beautiful working carousel and where our oldest daughter and her husband had their wedding party.

Boom! I'm not watching where I'm going, trip over one of those cement parking dividers, and hit the ground hard. I felt a crunch in my right shoulder and side; for a minute I waited thinking I might have broken something. Fortunately I didn't; I don't think. I might have bruised one of those top ribs. No biggie; I'll be fine.

Funny / pathetic part of it? As I'm lying on the ground and trying to get up, feeling some pain and panic, Bob is standing above me looking all around toward the sky; he's still trying to see the building. "Bob, could you give me your hand?" He does, but it's like a wimp hand -- a hand to hold, not to lift; a fly wouldn't be helped.

By this time a young man (well, maybe 30) who'd been helping his wife get their little kid into a hiking harness comes running over and helps me up. "Are you ok?" Yes. "Are you sure? That was a hard fall." Thanks. I really am fine. I reassure him and he goes back to his family.

Meanwhile Bob is standing there trying to figure out what's going on. "Did I hear someone say 'Bob'?"
I told him there were lots of people around and we should have our walk.