Christmas fall marked mom’s last visit

It is with sadness that I have resolved to never invite my mother to my house again.
My brother, Michael, and his wife, Diane, brought Mom up to our house for Christmas. My brother, David, his wife, Apryl, and their son, Jadyn, followed about an hour later.
We had a good meal, minus the coleslaw I had made a special trip to buy then left in the refrigerator. Michael commandeered the Chex mix. I tried the cheese ball Apryl brought. Jadyn liked the cake. We all ate too much. Thank goodness for elastic.
We passed around presents. David liked the slingshot monkey I bought for him. He had lost a fight with an origami monkey made from towels during the cruise he and his wife went on last fall. The new monkey was to remind him of that. It flew off the rafters multiple times during the afternoon. Best of all it screamed every time it landed.
Jadyn also received a flying present. He is at the age when money is the preferred gift. I tossed the toy in so he would have something to unwrap. His toy shot flying discs. The monkey never got hit by a disc. Both toys were such a hit that I am on the lookout for toys suitable for next Christmas.
Monkeys and plastic discs weren’t the only things flying around the house. Midway through our annual wrapping paper fight, Jadyn proclaimed that was his favorite part of Christmas, then he hurled a wad of wrapping paper across the room.
We laughed and talked most of the afternoon. I fished the monkey out from under the table, behind the chairs and wherever else it landed. We all flung it at unsuspecting family members.
Eventually, it was time for everyone to leave. That’s when the problem started. Presents were packed up and loaded into cars. Leftovers were prepared to send home. Michael got on one side of Mom, Diane on the other. I held onto the back of her jacket. She made it onto the porch. But when she set the legs of the walker on the step with the wheels in the air it was a disaster. Before I could tell her to stop and reposition the walker, she fell.
It happened so quickly that none of us caught her before she went down. We did keep her from falling forward and striking her face. She began crying as we straightened her out and sat her on the porch.
She wouldn’t let me look to see how badly her knees were skinned. She didn’t want me to wash them off. I respected her wishes. We helped her up and got her into Michael’s car. She was shivering badly, but had stopped crying.
She called me after they got home and said she was alright. I didn’t believe her but there was nothing I could do for her.
She always calls me at 9:00 sharp on Saturdays. When the phone didn’t ring by five after, I was concerned. Maybe the fall was worse than I thought it was. I called her. No answer. Five minutes later I called again. No answer. By this time I was beginning to panic.
I tried again. This time she answered. Relief poured over me. She had merely overslept. She said her legs hurt from the fall. I told her she would probably be sore for a few days.
Despite the fun we all had on Christmas, the fall reminds me that it is not safe to have my own mother visit my house. It is not worth the worry or the pain to try to get her in and out of the house safely. I suppose the price we pay for having her with us is to visit her at her home, not ours. Still, it makes me sad.