The surly bonds of earth...

I am particularly fond of that song I'll Fly Away, you know, the one that says "Some bright morning, when this life is over, I'll fly away". I want to do that today. But not in the way the song implies, oh, no no no. Just let me float over the sidewalk for a while, until my foot heals. It has deflated somewhat after my recent injury, but has now turned an alarming dusky blue accented with some great purple blotches under each ankle bone, and an archipelago of splotches at the intersection of foot to toes. Even swaddled in a generous wrap of Ace bandage, it feels tender and sore. And yet, I am grateful. My bones are 25 years younger than I am, you know, and bend admirably under pressure, which is more than I can say for my 61 year old mind, which sometimes sends me spinning completely out of control over practically nothing. There is more than one way to limp through life. I suppose this is the least drastic.