100 Things About Me in no particular order #1

I am afraid of falling down stairs.
Part One.

I'm not afraid of falling per se, and I'm not afraid of stairs, but I am terribly afraid of falling down stairs. This is to a point of a phobia, but I hesitate to use that word, as by definition or common usage it is: irrational fear. This fear of mine is not irrational in the least.
I have had two traumatizing falls down stairs, they are the source of this fear.
The first: My mother tells me I was seven or so at the time, I don't remember my age in years in this memory, I was young enough to not attach actual years to memories. We were at my paternal grandparent's house for the weekend. We went to one set of grandparent's house or the other once a month when I was growing up. Both sets lived about an hour and a half away, just far enough to be a good trip without too much annoying little brother being 'on my side' of the back seat.
These grandparents, my father's parents, lived in a home that my grandfather had built himself. He had been one of 11 farming children (which I didn't appreciate when I was a kid) and he is buried, 13 years now, with my grandmother now too, just a few months, in the same cemetery that HIS grandparents are buried in (which I didn't appreciate when I was a kid, either). These grandparents didn't watch a lot, or hardly any, TV, so I always came prepared when we went to their house. I brought whatever book I was writing at the time, dolls, sewing, and other projects when we went to this grandparents' house.
This particular weekend, I was going back downstairs, where my brother and I always slept, to get something or take something back down. I had plastic things in my hand, doll accessories of some sort. The stairs to the basement were in the garage, and were just pure concrete, like the garage floor. Something odd, but since I had grown up with it, not so much. We had to go outside the actual house to go down the stairs, and so it would seem a little scary to a little kid especially after dark.
I don't know what exactly happened, I just lost my balance or tripped over my feet, but all-of-a-sudden, I'm face first at the bottom of the stairs. I'm ok mostly, but my nose is all scraped up, from sliding down the concrete, and one of my plastic toys I was carrying got scraped up pretty badly. I do remember that I was trying to not ruin the toy, and I may have made my own fall worse trying to not scrape the toy on the cement.
Luckily, I was still pretty 'green', and didn't break anything. But it shook me up somethin' fierce at the time. I can still see the steps from that odd angle, when I opened my eyes. The concrete was cold. I remember wailing like the proverbial banshee, I was a kid after all, and could get away with wailing. I did get plenty of TLC, hugs and kisses, and washing up scrapes. And I think we all laughed (after I was calmed down) about the toy getting scraped. I think it was a scoop. I think I had big plans for that scoop. I don't know what they were, but I had a great idea that involved that scoop. I think the scrapes it got ruined it for me. Or I just plain forgot the idea after the trauma of falling. I may even still have that scoop somewhere. I think it's red.