The Seeing Impaired

I have one sibling, Rechelle who is 18 months older than me.  She has many, many talents.  So many that it's impossible for me to list them all here without making her sound like a super human.  Unfortunately, she also has some problems.   She has horrendous eyesight.  If she's not wearing her contacts and can't find her glassed then she's rendered completely handicapped.  Sadly, I think her eyesight is getting worse.  It seems she can no longer see doors and depth perception may be a thing of her past.  

Join me now as I walk you through a reenactment of her latest mishap.

Rechelle pulled up to the back of my house to retrieve her sons after a lovely afternoon of shopping.  Ethan, her second son, stood at the back door shielded from the cold night wind waving hello to his mother.  Now, it was dark and the lights were illuminating from inside the house causing a clear view into our house, but still, to the average sighted person well, basically to any normal human being that lives inside a house and finds leaving doors open to the night inefficient to their heating bill, it is obvious that we have a storm door.

But, for my sister and the entire community of seeing impaired people, there is no door on my back stoop.  So, she exited her van and walked briskly across the concrete patio to get out of the cold Kansas wind.  Lalalalalala, life is sweet, she was so happy, so blissful, lalalalalala.

"Hi boys!"  She said entering the house .

Ah, but she was not to enter the house.  Just at that very moment, a force field was placed between the house and the outdoors.  What could it be?  Dear Lord!  She smacked against the door so hard that it sounded like my kids had slammed a ball against the  door.  "WHAT WAS THAT?"  I yelled, ready to pounce on any of my nephews or children that were interrupting my blogging bliss.
My daughter, Ellen, saw her aunt bounce off the storm door and then instead of going to see if she could help, she came to the office and holding back her laughter said, "Um, Mom?  Aunt Rechelle just ran into the door". 

She ricocheted off the door and then since there is nowhere to go but down, well, she went down.

"I'm going to break something!"  "God help me!"  

She landed face down on the patio.  Smack!

Poor, poor, blind woman. 

The kittens ran to give her CPR and lick her flesh wounds.

She got up, assessed the damage and thankfully nothing was broken.  As she walked slowly and  sorely towards the stoop, this time she reached for the knob that opens my back door.  She gingerly made her way to my couch and sat stone faced while we peppered her with questions. Biting our cheeks trying desperately not to laugh, "Are, are phbt, are you hurt?  Ddddid  phhh, did you not, there's a door, mmmph, ha, a door, did you not see the door?  Haha, How did you fall?  Sorry, you're right, it's not funny, mmph, phblt, excuse me I need to got into the other room for a bit, I feel a sudden need to uh, um, well, ha, ahem, haha, ahem-ahem, hahahahahahahahahah, sorry, sorry, I know it's not funny, sorry."

A few days later I cleaned a perfect face print off my back door.