My mother was SO clumsy.

Oh, no. It wasn’t alcohol induced either. She was a natural.

So many times we’d see her tripping, falling or tumbling down something. I mean, remember the first installment of Judy’s tales?
Exactly.

Here’s a poem I wrote way back in once upon a time time after my mom broke her ankle, just 30 minutes into a weekend camping trip. Obviously the trip got cut short, as it was a pretty rough break, but of course, I had to document the event to lighten up the mood my mom was dealing with at the time. She got the biggest laugh out of this!

Twas’ The First Night of Spring Break
Twas’ the first night of Spring Break,
As we headed up to camp,
We were all driving fast,
Up the Tillis Hills’ Ramp.

The rain was falling lightly,
As we set up at our site,
Hooked up hoses, opened chairs,
Ready for a weekend of delight.

When what should our wandering eyes and ears here,
But a very noisy Judy falling down onto her rear.

She tumbled and she fumbled,
Right down the camper steps,
Broke her ankle in a few places,
It was her worst accident yet.

“Aye Dios Mio!” yelled Abuelita,
“What the HELL!” screamed my dad.
We ran down the stairs to see,
If it really was that bad.

She had twisted, she had turned,
Got her poor foot mighty stuck,
From the looks of the situation,
We all knew my mom was… not good.

When the ambulance arrived,
They put her on the stretcher bed,
The yelling and the crying,
Was a sound of dread.

At the hospital they twisted,
At the hospital they turned,
As they adjusted the bad ankle,
Our minds filled with great concerns.

Our camping trip was shortened,
Because my mother’s horrid fate,
We drove home the next morning,
Broken ankle and a dislocate.

The next day brought more hospitals,
More doctors and waiting rooms,
Not enough medicine was given,
To remove that feeling of “doom”

No more jet skis, No more Wal-mart,
Mom was the image of despair,
But even cast to her knee,
She got compliments on her hair.

Spring Break was spent delivering,
Ice cream, cokes and Krispy Kreme,
Even though the bones were broken,
Mom’s appetite was non unseen.

Nights and nights were restless spent,
Mom could get not much relief,
Tossing, turning, crying, aching,
Getting help to go pee pee.

Days and days my mother waited,
Until surgery day came,
They added plates, and lots of screws,
Terminator… a new nickname.

So now my mother waits patiently,
With casts and screws and boots,
She rolls around the house,
You better move when she’s en route!

If she does her weekly therapy,
And follows doctor’s rules,
She’ll be running around at Wal-Mart,
Before the start of next year’s school.

Until then well count the days,
Until mom can dance and twirl,
We all know she’s just not normal,
Unless her feet are in a whirl.

The end.
 

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