Broken Wrist, Human Kindness, Mind's Workings

My wrist absorbed the fall's impact and promptly cracked. On the pavement near Blue Star three weeks ago today. Not a soul was around that Sunday morning. Just my dog and me. Gingerly cradling the traumatized wrist in my right arm, Pelusita and I made our way home along South Flores.

These weeks of x-rays, titanium implants, pain meds, cast bags, and kind souls doing dishes and changing sheets, remind me of mortality and fragility. No downward dogs for months they say. A new writing class, "Diving into the Weird," will be a creative outlet and distraction.

My quests for financial security, romantic love, and spiritual evolution continue in the face of my fracture. A vision of an osteoporotic future haunts, and colors my view.

- I must increase income to not become a burden on family or society; but haven't I done my good deeds, made my difference?

- Its never time to be lazy and a laurel-rester; but it's nice to be taken care of for a bit.

- You know, I help people too, but watching others help me elicits a confusion of emotions. From warmth and joy to embarrassment and shame, all pervasive feelings arise and subside,

- The limit on my movement through the world fortifies resolve to accept what is. Fewer doable activities make for a simpler reality where collaboration is mandatory.

image credits;

aging tattooed woman by Dina Dee from Pixabay

vintage wrist skeleton by b0red from Pixabay