After the rain last weekend the deck was wet. I walked from the car briskly and slipped. Whack, on my back, with a loud thud. The irony was we had built the platform ten years ago to be without steps, including a railing so that my aging mother would not fall. But of course I am young. Too young to need the railing. The biggest ache was in my arm, which I suppose had taken the brunt of the impact. I applied arnica liberally, and avoided using it. I even resisted sewing all afternoon. 

For the next few days I babied the limb, using my left when I could, and not asking it to bear weight. I was pretty sure it would heal in time.

The same weekend Ben went off the rails. He said hurtful things, and screamed at all of us. I felt bruised. By the following day he was cheerful again and everyone else was able to clear the air and enjoy him. But I felt bruised. I kept my distance. 

I noticed the play on words. My fall was because I had let go of the railing. Benjamin's behavior was off the rails. Rather than deliberately choosing to explode, it was possible that he too had lost his balance. Hurt people hurt people, as Twelve Steps says. 

Maybe there are ways I can give him stability so that all of us can keep from falling.