3 things to inspire 1 story written in 20 minutes. #story320
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A limp. A fucking limp. That’s what I’m left with now. I was carrying groceries from the car to my house, maybe 20 steps away and I misremembered the step leading from the front door into the living room.
Like collapsing a tent pole, all the bones in my leg broke in a chain reaction; the ankle popped, pushing up my tibia and fibula up into my knee cap with a crunch, bruising my femur and dislocating my hip. Or at least that was the doctors best guess according to my account and the x-ray.
The good news is, I no longer have to carry the groceries. I think I’ve already mentioned the bad news.
Of all the things in the world that are constantly trying to injure, maim and kill us, it was my memory and pride that landed me here.
“Take one bag of groceries at a time,” my mom used to say.
“Take one bag of groceries at a time,” my wife used to say.
“Why make 3, 4, or 5 trips when I can make one.” I used to say.
Who knew it would be so dangerous? Not I. Who knows it can be dangerous? I do, now.
I’m getting nearly recovered, or at least to the closest recovery I’ll be able to get to. I can walk with a limp but I can walk. When it rains or is about to rain, my bones ache but I can walk.
My buddy helps with the groceries. He’s the neighbor across the street. He carries them in, two at a time (show-off) and leaves them for me on the counter. I can manage putting them away.
Except for today, I don’t always need to buy flour, so I keep it on the top shelf, just out of reach.
Well, I’m not an invalid, I can still do things. So I lift up my good leg onto the counter below, then I pull up the bad one, so I’m kneeling next to the salt, olive oil and cook books.
I grab the flour and just edge it over the lip of the shelf. It’s sticking out, so I reach and feel everything stretching, from finger to shoulder to back to hips to toes.
Losing my balance, I fall backwards. My neck slams down on an open cabinet door below, which snaps my head one way and my body the other.
A wheelchair. A fucking wheel chair. That’s what I’m left with now. I’ll have to make another minor adjustment to my routine but at least I don’t have to carry in my groceries or put them away.
Fuck.
Whilst making a living... 