I don’t know about you, but the world seems to be getting pretty (insert your favorite colorful word here) intense. While I like to stay informed, I also like to laugh to deal with stress. And, I need some chuckles these days.
Today, the wonderful Renee Roman is here to help us laugh with an embarrassing story. Also, Renee is giving away 1 ecopy of Bonded Love. Below the guest post, you’ll find more details about the giveaway.
Take it away, Renee.
Letting Go (And Paying the Price)
I’ve never been graceful. Whether due to some inherent propensity of crappy balance, or an ear issue, or just plain old klutziness who’s to say. There are times when I think I’ve mastered the “lightness” on my feet, only to find myself on my back, looking at the sky. It’s my “thing,” and I learned at an early age there’s no getting around it. Now, don’t get me wrong, there are things I do quite well on my feet. My biggest accomplishment is dancing. I can hear music’s beat and rhythm. Specifically, I was shocked to find I’m good at line dancing, once I learn the step sequence. (Though that’s another whole discussion entirely.) Believe it or not, a dance floor is the one place I’ve never fallen (yet).
And although I’ve outgrown being embarrassed for things I do or say or happens, there’s a memory from my childhood that has stayed with me through the decades. It’s the one I’m going to share with you.
Picture a chubby young girl about seven years old, stuffed into a uniform I hate and always having to sit in the front of the class because of the first letter of my last name. School always bored me, and I counted the minutes until the bell rang, releasing me from the prison of forced smiles and tolerating my classmates. Yes, even early on I never understood why others couldn’t just do their homework and get it over with.
So, on a sunny spring day when the outside teased us all by being right there, I glanced again and again at the clock and begged the bell to sound. Restless feet and hands spread through the confined space like a virus. By the time the damn thing rang, it’s a wonder someone wasn’t trampled in our haste. Two flights of stairs were all that stood between me and freedom.
I took off with my classmate…a herd of anxious animals…knowing I’d been outside in a flash.
Maybe I should have reconsidered the word “flash.” I made it down the first set unscathed in rather quick fashion, half the class was already out the door, but I wasn’t the last one, so I was happy. Descending the second set, the exit door repeatedly banged open. I was so close. And that’s when I looked up for a split second, thinking I had one more step to go. Unfortunately, my calculation was off.
As I stepped once more, expecting to find solid ground my foot was met by nothing but air, and my momentum carried me forward. In my head I was screaming, “Don’t land on your face, don’t land on your face!” I held onto the railing until I hit the bottom, then stumbled forward, full steam ahead, toward the closed door. To this day I’m not sure how I managed to grab the push bar and hang on as I flew off the top concrete step, and when the door banged against the wall, I nearly ripped my arm from my socket, but I hung on.
Heart pounding and limbs shaking, I marveled I was standing outside. Upright and alive. A few stragglers followed out the door and my friends shouted for me to catch up. Out of breath and checking for anything that might have broken, I nodded. Smiled. When I fell in step with them, they asked what I’d been doing I laughed and shook my head, glad I’d somehow survived.
No one needed to know if not for some strange quirk of fate, I would have been in an ambulance by now.
Needless to say I’ve had at least a dozen near misses since then. All falls of one sort or another. All ending with me on my considerable backside with nothing more than a bruise here or there. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve discovered aside from stairs, ice is not my friend. But I’ve learned to keep laughing in spite of myself. I’ll never be graceful and that’s okay because I’ve also learned it’s okay to be me.
Stay safe and be well,
by Renee Roman
Master carpenter Blaze Carter has upheld her family legacy for honesty and excellence and honed a reputation to match. Her greatest desire is to pass her knowledge on to her children. All she has to do is find her perfect partner who wants the same things—a full life and a family of their own.
Trinity Greene grew up poor and has risen above the stigma of believing she’ll never amount to anything. She’s worked hard and is well on her way to becoming a head nurse in the ED. Her dream is within reach and the last thing she needs is an oh-so-attractive distraction.
When a devastating injury threatens to derail her future, Blaze struggles with the possibility of giving up on her dream. Trinity knows all too well the odds are against Blaze but isn’t willing to let her stop believing. Not when she’s beginning to care for Blaze’s heart as well as her recovery. Together, they must decide if love and a future is a possibility worth fighting for.
MEET THE AUTHOR
Renee Roman has lived her entire life in upstate New York and can’t see herself living anywhere there isn’t a change of seasons. She works at a local college and writes lesbian romance, intrigue, and erotica in her spare time. Her novels including, Epicurean Delights and Where the Lies Hide, as well as her erotic short, Hard Body, are just the beginning of a long list of stories waiting to be told.
CONNECT WITH RENEE ROMAN
Thanks so much for stopping by today.