There was always that moment during childhood summers when my bike would tumble sideways, spilling me on to the bumpy road, gravel digging into my knees. I'd ride the rest of the way home, with the ache and sting of the burn and scrape accelerating my pace.
This morning on the return one mile walk from my one mile jog, I gazed out at the lake, watching the sea gulls dip to the water for fish. Suddenly my foot twisted, as I stepped on the elevated ledge where the paved trail meets grass. I somehow wound up on the asphalt trail facing the opposite direction, having performed some crazy contortions to protect myself from the fall. I sat there for a moment, dazed. I glanced at my knees--scraped. Palms--slightly gravel burned, with a tiny bruise already forming. I rolled my ankles--no damage from the twist.
I stood up, turned around, smiled at the other walker who stopped to see if I was okay, and felt a little like a kid again, with the summer scars to prove a life lived fully, a life spent outdoors engaging with the real world. I walked home, my palms stinging, my knee bleeding, the sun still shining.
No matter how old we get (well, I've got several years on you) it's always childhood revisited when we fall down. But it does get more disorienting imo. Glad your ankles are fine, and you only have the proud badges of summer to show for your mishap.
ReplyDeletenancy, i agree--i was momentarily stunned. not the bounce-right-back of childhood days.
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