Broken

Always, that is, until yesterday . . .
(wavery flasback sequence)

Two feet on the pedals.  Running late for class, hurried, a little chilled by the wind.  Pedaling slowly through the treacherous parking area behind the nearby grocery store, where people drive like maniacs.  A car pulls up behind, hovers behind, clearly also in a hurry.  I also have a right to be on the road.  Car, you can wait.  Car is riding my back wheel, and I turn my head to see how close it is.  Turn back in time to see that I have approached an intersection more quickly than I judged.  Look right – no traffic.  Look left – and a car is upon me, honking, squealing brakes.  Car behind me, also squealing brakes.  Me, squealing brakes.  I stop in time, but the force of my sudden stop lifts me off the seat.  And down.  Onto the bar.  Hard.

OH MY GOD OUCH.  OUCHOUCHOUCH car waves me through OUCHOUCHOUCH other car turns off road OUCH CHRIST OUCH and it’s just me.  I slip off my bike, jelly.  Argh.  In my head I hear, over and over – you broke your hoo ha.  Your hoo ha.  It’s BROKEN.  You BROKE it.

After several minutes, I climbed onto the bike, winced, pedaled.  Limped into class five minutes late.  Told my neighbor that I just fell off my bike and broke my girl parts.  She laughed, and then awwed, and patted my shoulder.  Later that day, my left foot decided it also hadn’t liked the force of that stop, and thus was I totally hobbled.

This morning, I’m still hobbling.  Good god.

Jack fell off a dining room chair right onto his face this morning, bending his neck funny.  He’s fine – a little headache, a little goose egg, but fine.  I think someone must have sprinkled our food with clumsy dust.