Getting in touch with people I used to know lately. It’s disconcerting, makes me want to write again though I don’t have the time. I might to make sure I still can, though, sort of like drinking a bottle of lemon juice to prove a point.
One of them, dear soul he is, took me snowboarding Saturday morning – the first time I’ve ever gone. We went to bed late, got up stupidly early, watched the dawn as we drove, then went crashing down the mountain strapped to a stick. Strangely, I think I recommend it. Except the early in the morning bit. That can go hang.
My favourite was the chair lift, being suspended high above the thick white silence and the candy-coated snowy trees.
Bad news, though. I had a terrible collision with a little kid. Some boy on skies with a blue and yellow helmet, couldn’t have been more than ten years old, he smashed into my knees going fast down a hill and almost broke my leg. Sent me flying, knocked the wind out, and all of this still half way up. I could barely walk by the time I made it down, and spent all evening on a cane. Strained ligaments. I’m still hobbling today, but it should be alright in a few days. Just a bloody nuisance.
Today I feel the rest of it, the aches involved in that much new exercise. My hands are tender, my ribs are bruised, like I’m wearing another layer of skin, one that’s an inch farther into my flesh and far too tight.