hop, skip and jump

I moved the last of my stuffs out of the far-off place. It only took nine boxes (two tiny), a bookshelf, a set of tall statutes from Rwanda and a tennis racket. And two men in a bright yellow van. Who were supposed to be one driver and a one mover but were kind enough to carry the stuff up to the sixth floor for me in Manhattan while I watched the van which was parked in front of a fire hydrant illegally.

As I left my old place, I felt like the end of a movie - you know, when the scene suddenly freezes while the person is walking or leaping or skipping? At the end of my far-away place movie, I was leaping off the stoop and clicking my heels together in the air.

--Freeze--

Then, in my head, I saw the camera continue as I lost my balance in mid-air and went crashing to the ground, bruising and scraping every part of me and hitting my head on the pavement with a large thud.

The scary thing is, that's what would happen if I lept off the stoop and tried to click my heels together in the air. Gracefullness continues to elude me.