honeydunce

Restless. The clock sounds loud at times like this. Visiting family for the holiday, spending much time in the imaginary world of the four year old niece–we build and rebuild kingdoms for the captured princess and the evil prince keeping her there. I am fidgety, all muscles twitching. Workouts have been minimal–I’ve resorted to crunches and push-ups by the handful before I go to bed and when I wake up. This pesky foot injury. I can’t stand being held back by something physical, tried convincing myself multiple times that the mind can override any inner ailment yet I’m still hobbling around here and there. And then while pushing the nephew at full speed round and round the house in his Fred Flinstone-esque car I kicked the wall with the same bad foot, cracking my second-to-last toe. Nice and purple, swollen, will not bend, feels like an added appendage within the sock and shoe. Oy vey.

I am not a star pupil when it comes to patience, not for things like this that seem so trivial yet have such an impact that I must change the very way I walk. In the car today we passed a jogger along the road and the envy I felt boiling up in my sternum was real, real enough to be a bitter taste in the back of my throat. How fortunate and for granted we are when all of our parts work in their normal fashion. And when they don’t? Kind of like the world ends. At least that’s how I feel about it.

Aside from the hobbling, I don’t have much to say on these last few days of 2011. It occurred to me(quite some time ago) that the real celebration of a new year comes with the birthday. A more literal interpretation, one I can get behind. I’m not really big with resolutions–the whole “changing on day one” and going from there. If change is wanted/needed then by all means do it now. All this to say that I’ve reached no pivotal decision or truth or realization about the past calendar year. I own no neat bow to tie it with. Or maybe the bow can be a simple knot of splintery twine: hobbling sucks. That is all.