Falling Down and Getting Up

Yesterday I was walking the dogs down the back alley way; it's a short cut from the street one block over from mine. It's not an alley like an east coast city alley but more like a long connected driveway to the back of people's houses. Coyotes gather back there, occasional crimes take place, but for the most part it is safe. Anyway it was morning and I was walking and I knew there was someone behind me because I could hear plastic bags swishing. I wasn't really paying attention but then I heard a heavy thunk and when I turned around there was an old lady flat on her face. Her bags were strewn, one of them was filled with cut up chicken, and her comb and keys had spilled out of her purse. I turned and ran to her and tried to help her to sit and we both talked at the same time, she in Spanish, I in English. I rubbed her back while she tried to pull her pant leg up. She had pebbles and dirt on her face and down her shirt, and her jacket had come off  at one shoulder. My dogs kept trying to go after the chicken and I shifted gears from yelling and kicking at them to soothing her, which made her giggle. I listened to her talking and then I told her that just two nights ago, my mother who was visiting from out of town, had fallen on the steps near my house, and that a week before that I had tripped and fallen over this weird garden ledge on the sidewalk. We nodded and pantomimed and laughed. I'm not sure if she understood any of what I was saying and I know I didn't understand what she was saying. I got her to her feet and helped brush her off and then we walked up the rest of the hill together.

Later I wondered if it was an ominous sign that I had been part of 3 falls within 2 weeks, or a sign of good fortune that each time we got up and walked away.