falling down right…

The day after Christmas a little girl waiting for her father in a store at the mall told me she had wanted a special doll with shiny hair longer than her body, but she didn’t get it. Santa thought she’d been bad she told me. I asked how she broke her arm. Looking down, she said, “I fall sometimes.” I said that I used to fall too, but went to my teacher and told her I didn’t want to fall anymore. The girl looked at me and asked, “Then what?” I smiled and said, “Then I stopped falling and two special people taught me how to fly.” “Were they nice special?” she asked. I shook my head up and down. “Will you promise me you’ll tell your teacher?” She paused and stared at me searching for the answer. I said, “Here they are now,” as the two people who saved me walked toward me. I introduced my mother and my father to her explaining the cast on her arm. My father, the only father who would matter to me, asked if he could sign her cast? When she read what he wrote, I saw the smile on her face, and I asked him afterward what he’d written. He said, “Someday, you’ll fall up.”

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