Every year, my husband and I would pack up the kids and head to Manresa State Beach in California to go camping. Just a short, 20 minute jaunt from there, was the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. It was the same gig every year…pack the kids, drive a few hours, pitch the tent and walk to the beach where our butts would land for the next few days. We would usually leave early Monday morning so by the time we would arrive at Pacifica, it would be time for lunch and we would stop in at the beach front Taco Bell. After lunch we had maybe another hour before our destination.
The routine was always the same, lunch at Taco Bell, arrive at our destination, then settle in for the week. We would lay like broccoli in the sand or boogie board until our bodies felt like jello. Tuesdays we would eat pizza for dinner and then head to the Boardwalk with our empty Pepsi cans to purchase discounted wristbands for unlimited rides. And every year, just like clockwork, this was our vacation. And every year, for three years, just like clock work, I would have an accident.
The first year I tripped on air and fell in the parking lot of the Boardwalk. I hit hard. I scraped up my wrist and bruised it so bad, I thought I may have broken it. But I didn’t. The next year, my husband’s brother, wife and son came with us. That evening around the campfire, a stray cat came into our site and as I chased it off, tripping on dirt and down I went…scraping up my hands and knees. We laughed about it because this was the trend for me, not just during our camping trips, but at home too.
The last year we had gone camping, I was so happy to have made it through the week without any accidents. My husband and I were packing up the SUV and I diligently was being careful not to trip being aware of my steps. We were actually having a conversation, and joking about all the accidents I have had every year, as we packed up the last few things.
I was making my last trip from the site to the SUV, when out of nowhere, I kid you not, something came out of the sky and hit the side of my head so unbelievably hard, I dropped everything. Dazed and confused, I had yelled a few choice words and looked up and around to try and make sense of what the heck hit me so hard. Then at the next campsite over, a family had called out, “SORRY!” as their soccer ball rolled back down the hill. “REALLY???” I yelled back. Unfreakingbelivable. Little did they know, the conversation my husband and I were just having. They look mortified. It truly was an accident.
When I get to the car, I have a raging headache and the side of my temple is brilliant red. I tell my husband what happened and his only response was to laugh and tell me it was “too good to be true” to get through the week without any occurrences.