December 14, 2013
Well, I got slipping on the ice, cracking my bony left knee
on the asphalt, flinging my body across two lanes of a busy street, out of the
way this winter season. My sunglasses flew to the other side of the big patch
of glass as I glance up to see a young guy, staring at me from the corner of
the crosswalk, seemingly oblivious to my shaken form, and obvious distress. When
I met up with him in the Half Price Book Shop moments later, he met my eye
without a glimmer of compassion. Then again we swish past, rounding a corner in
the travel section. He couldn’t be moved to pass a kind word. I’m dismayed.
Crossing the street, after browsing aimlessly in the store
for forty-five minutes, I commented on the perilous ice, to the woman wobbling
next to me in fashionable high black boots. She shared that she had fallen, on
her journey in the opposite direction, awhile ago. Claimed she splayed on the
concrete while people drove past, knowing she was a spectacle, and she was
helpless to do anything about it. We commiserated and parted ways. I gave her
arm a brief squeeze before stalking the slush to the parked car.
I feel wary and anxious, traumatized by the fall, hours
later. Arnica rub helps the stiffness in my joint but the suffering from
vulnerability will not recede. Suppose dark chocolate meant for someone’s
stocking will come in handy.
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