My Own Brand Of Legendary

     I reached a new level of stupidity a few weeks back. Several Fridays ago, I was making lunch for my dad, happy and free. My emotions and mental energy were wrapped around a 2002 miniseries on the life of Napoleon. At one point I came across an unusually stubborn package of liverwurst. Now, I am not a deft person, particularly with knives. As I pulled my kitchen knife up to slice the plastic, I failed to notice that the knife edge was facing up, and I was pulling that edge towards my face. Nor did I realize that I was using the sharpest knife in my house. So, like any normal person, I was shocked when the knife suddenly popped up through the plastic and smacked into my own dumb face. 

    MY OWN FACE TRIED TO COMMIT HARA-KIRI.

    I stood there for a moment in shock, eyes closed, before reaching up to feel my face. My hand came down covered with blood, and I froze. From the outside, I seemed merely stunned, but for a brief moment there I wondered if I'd stabbed myself in the eye, or perhaps chopped the upper half of my face off. 

   I steeled myself and felt around again. My eyeball was still there, but I could make out a deep cut above my eyebrow. Still holding the knife, I ran to the bathroom. As I prodded the gash in my forehead, I wondered what sort of opportunity this might hold. What amazing stories might I weave around this new scar? What excuses might I make, what yarns might I spin to make this story seem less stupid?

     I couldn't think of any. 
     As my family and friends found out what the lame half-inch-long cut above my eyebrow was from, I had nothing to tell them but the truth. They weren't surprised at any of it, except for the apparent small miracle that I hadn't actually hit my eye. 

     It was then that I realized that, through years of experience, I have built up a repertoire of klutziness. So much so that I can't faze anyone who knows me well, unless it involves an amputation or a wake. And somehow that kind of inspired me. I may not be a hardcore falcon-wielding lone ranger with an eyepatch, a source of lores and legends, but I guess I have my own legacy. I'm as graceful as an undead manatee. With all the force of a great typhoon. So I have that going for me: my own brand of legendary. 

Dream big, guys.

words and art copyright 2013 by Sabrina Smith