Stair Falling, Snow and Booger Twins

I am staring at Ava and Isaac, my twin, offering me sympathy marshmallows and ABC, “Already Been Chewed” peanuts from their snack cups.

Thoughtful, but I’ll pass.

Reason for their offering, Daddy is lying on the couch with an icepack on his lower back. Wool socks+full flight of stairs=pain. That’s the limit of my math abilities, however the equation is sound.

Here in Newfoundland and Labrador , our winters lately involve frequent snowfall mixed with high winds giving zero visibility. Normally we experience snow, wind then rain creating a crazy amount of ice. However thanks to our record snowfall this January, dubbed “Snowmageddon”, 96 cm/ 36.6 inches was dumped on us in one helping. Since then I have been snow-blowing every couple of days as snow continues to fall.

The view of my backyard. Snow covered hills with a mountain background.

I decided to go to war this morning by arming myself with homemade wool socks. The secret weapon of Newfoundlanders everywhere. Keeps the feet warm and fortifies our rubber boots against the snow.

Great weapon, as long as you don’t wear them going down stairs.

Sure enough I did and I paid the price. As I neared the bottom my feet came out from under me and down I went on my backside. Now an hour later it sure smarts, however at least I didn’t break anything. I am thankful for that considering a laid up husband with four kids under five wouldn’t make life easy for us.

I do not have found memories of stairs. This due in part to my grandmother, Margaret Eason falling down her own set at 89 years old, breaking her collarbone, arm and splitting her head open. Yet, she managed to dial my Aunt who then called my father, both rushing to her house where she lived alone, just out the road from us. Upon entering the home they found my Nan on her knees, cleaning up the blood off the floor with a rag. True to her character, my grandmother was a strong woman.

Not long after this event my mother fell down her own stairs. Similar to my mistake this morning, however Mom’s injuries were certainly more than mine with a bruised tailbone, significantly bruised arms and legs. Only by grabbing the spindles on the stairs did she manage to avoid serious injury.

You could say stairs are not our friends in the Eason Clan.

I am thankful for one thing this morning; my family. While Melissa was gearing up to go outside and snow-blow, which is usually my job, my brother and father got the snow blower ready and started clearing my driveway. Melissa and our two oldest Benaiah and Railene then went out and tackled the snow, with Melissa taking over the snow blowing and my children shoveling our front steps.

I am a blessed man. I thank God for my family, as I sit here with an icepack on my back watching them work away. I know I can depend on them always.

I guess falling down stairs is not that bad, when you’re surrounded by love.


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