Blame it on dance

concerned that she may have severely injured herself. She just lay on her back with her eyes closed — sobbing. In between sobs she explained that nothing felt like it was broken other than her

hrieked as she quickly pushed her b—-t back and pulled the robe around her. It was now mums turn to be embarrassed. I found my voice again and said, “Let me give you a hand to get up,” and simultaneously offered her my hand. She looked up at me, still slightly red and said, “thank you son.” But as she took my hand I noticed her glance toward my crutch area once again. “I think I best be off to bed now anyway,” she continued. “So what were you doing mum?” I asked again. “Well, with your dad not being able to dance for another year I didn’t want to lose any of my skills either. I have worked too d–n hard to get where I have, so I thought I would just continue with some practice, but it looks like that wasn’t such a good idea was it!” With that mum said goodnight, turned and hobbled up the stairs. I watched mum leave then turned off the lights and returned to my room. As I lay on the bed thinking about what I had just witnessed, an idea was starting to form on how I could help mum out, then sleep finally overtook me. The next morning I woke to the sound of mum getting dad’s breakfast ready. My mind immediately wandered back to the events of the previous e

CONT