Concussion on Rue Notre Dame

When I was younger, perhaps not young enough for this story to take place unnoticed, maybe early teens, I was walking with my parents to the dep.  A store that I still do not know the true name of, as I have always refered to as the Owl Store.  Not so ingenious as it has a great big owl on it.  A dep in Quebec is a corner store.

We were walking with our dog, Daisy, on Rue Notre Dame, a  few metres from the Owl Store, and no more than 3 blocks away from our home.  I had walked this route my entire life.  I had done it on my own, when we need something fast from the dep.  I had walked it with friends.  I had walked it with my parents, with my dog,  with my cat.  Basically I knew this route backwards and forwards, eyes open or close.

I knew this route!! I swear to it!  Which makes this story worst…

I was talking with my parents, no more than a few metres from the dep, when I awoke on the sidewalk with my dad’s face above me with concerned tears in his eyes, asking me how many fingers he held up.  I was very confused I was talking with them, whilst walking, and then on the sidewalk with my dad leaning over me.

My mum, however,  was holding onto a sapling.  She was squatting with her head in her hands.  I sat up, a tad dizzy and confused as to why my dad was telling my mum to shut up.  I focused in on my mum, she was not crying as I expected, but laughing!

Laughing so hard that she had to hold on to a tree for balance.  Laughing so hard that she had to squat to avoid peeing herself!

My dad was helping me up, as he yelled at my mother, “She just walked into a parking meter, then hit the sidewalk, she most likely has a concussion!  Stop laughing, it’s not funny!  What wrong with you!”

So thats what happened, I thought to myself.

My lovely mum answered,  “I know! It was so hilarious!”  She could not stop laughing for days. Every time she looked at me she’d start to giggle.

My mum is not one to be lacking in heart.  Once she stayed up all night to save a clearly dying fish, it died after 4 hours of mum trying to save it, I had went to bed resolved in the fishes demise.  She served on many charities.  Gave CPR to a cat, was the civilian EMT for her office building.  Nevertheless, her loving nature stopped at, so-called, banana peel gags.

Her only child, her beloved daughter walking into a parking meter, clearly feel out of the category of sympathy and into the banana peel category.  Mum told me, perhaps four years after this incident, that every time she felt sad, or need a laugh she would replay in her head me walking into a parking metre, and it would brighten her day.

The story did take on a life of it’s own after a friend of mine noticed that when ever I walked with my mum, and I happen to walked too close to a parking meter, a pole, a street lamp, or a tree, mum would pull my arm to maneuvering me around whatever object was in my path.

It need to be explained why mum felt the need to maneuver me and why I allowed it, despite being 16 years old.  And so the story was released into the rumour mill of High School, and ever since then friends would pull my arm, or comment when I get close to an object when walking, “Now don’t walk into a pole!”

Sadly, at times when no one feels the need to maneuvering me, I do walk into an object.  Yet, in true Canadian fashion I apologise to the object, and continue on my way, but I never walk so fast to result in being concussed!



One thought on “Concussion on Rue Notre Dame

  1. Pingback: Wicked Bunny Rabbit | Stories She Told

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