The world looked so pitiful, and I felt so vast
as I stared down those burgundy steps.
The railing had snapped from its hinges years ago,
so one had to be careful when strutting down from this height
The steps winded slightly into the unfinished basement
I felt supreme, above-all-else,
ready to take the world in a choke-hold.
A cauldron of confidence and dim-wittedness
brewing in my 11 year old chest.
Old enough to feel independent,
but still young enough to abuse it.
Taking one step at a time was simple,
taking two was but a breeze,
taking three was easily mastered,
but to do it blind- that was a challenge

I took my rainbow silhouetted sleeping bag
mighty enough to fit someone half my size
I had it prepared and zipped
and placed it over my head, wild-eyed.
I let air seep into my lungs to bolster my will,
taking a mouthful of colorful polyester
and took my first step down that burgundy abyss.
It was easy! Life was a game, I was its master!
two, three, four steps ,
I was a champion!
But all it took was one simple mistake,
a poorly calculated step but an inch from its destination,
sent my 11 year old chest spiraling down.

I don’t remember the pain,
I don’t remember the ride to the hospital,
nor do I remember my collar bone being snapped from its hinges.
But I did remember the lesson,
Life was the master, and I was its game.