One wrong step and all I remember was falling beneath the ground floor of the house. I plummeted in water within half a second and instantly regretted my decision of putting my hands to my sides instead of reaching out to safety.
While attempting to figure out what I fell into, I reached my hands out to find something to grab onto, but was met with slippery, rough stones. My mind racing with possibilities fell upon the conclusion that I had in fact fallen into a well when I made eye contact with a sliver of light shining above me. My name was called frantically from Angie and echoed down the well straight to the bottom. She called emergency services and was keeping them updated while continuing to ask me if I was still alive.
I was about 15 feet below ground treading water while recalling a quote my father said to me about panicking in situations like this: “Try never to panic, it is hard to get things right when you are panicked.” I was only able to think about if I did die in this 5 foot wide well I would never see my daughter again. I was not at the age where I could even attempt rescuing myself, but when I finally heard sirens approaching I let myself relax. Soon a life jacket was thrown down along with a rope to hold onto while I would be pulled up to land with a firefighter who descended into the dark hole.
Once stepping onto solid ground, I had oddly enough realized the luck I had been given. If I would have fallen into the well sideways or backwards I would not be writing this story right now.
Postcards From London 