Recovering

She slept on the floor, which was fine. She had been sleeping in the recliner, the bed being so high above the ground, so precarious waking up and staring down from its edge, tipping, her arms useless, her nightdress against the sheets like water on glass, sliding, and inside her head everything lopsided, leaning to the left and down, down. The recliner was like the arms of a big gentle daddy, her solid big-armed daddy and she slept so sweetly in those arms. But the floor, where she now found herself, seemed fine in its own right, she wished she had thought of it before. No use wondering how she got there and why she was wearing a green party dress, it's just where she was, no looking back, only forward to where she would now spend her nights, and days.