ice


There’s that moment just before you fall when you know it’s going to happen.

You have a premonition, you see it, yet are almost powerless to stop it. Watch me slip on that patch of ice. You dare it to happen, almost want it to happen – heck, it would be like scratching an itch, and it would throw the entire balance of the universe off if you didn’t do it – step on that patch of glossy ice in your stupid cute boots and land slam on your right butt cheek, your head snapping back hard, almost hitting the frozen concrete before you caught it. You knew it was going to happen so you had some time to plan how you’d fall, what you’d hurt.

It’s a compromise, because every week now, it’s something new. Shoulder, ankle, neck, back. What can I afford to injure and still be able to function, to play tennis, to write on the computer (it hurts even now), to sleep? 

I am always in pain, but I guess it could have been worse – had I brittle bones, it could have been a broken hip, or arm.  But I really feel it today, worse than I would have imagined – it literally rattled my bones, shifted tendons and ligaments into next week…and perhaps beyond.

I guess I can’t complain, though. I pretty much asked for it.

This is an exercise for Just Write, a freewriting forum hosted every Tuesday by Heather King, writer and blogger of The Extraordinary Ordinary. Thank you for indulging my 10 minute ramble.

Advertisements