The morning is perfectly lovely. The sun is bright and glints through the branches of the trees in the backyard. A few white clouds dot the blue sky. The big branches at the tops of the pine trees sway in the now and again wind. Leaves on the smaller branches twist in the wind. It is warm, already 67˚. It may even get into the low 70’s. It is a delightful Sunday.

My foot is nearly back to normal. Only the top is still swollen which is, of course, where my slipper goes. The toes are back and blue but the dark colors are fading. The redness of the hematoma is shrinking, but the leg is tender to the touch, an ow! ow! tenderness if even cloth touches the shin, and it still hurts almost all the time but in a smaller area. I have a compression bandage to wrap around the leg, but it is a grit your teeth procedure so I’m waiting a bit longer. When I first get up, the pain is shorter lasting, but I still have to grab hold of things on my way to the bathroom. Thank the Lord for door knobs.

When I was a kid, I saw the Roy Rogers rodeo in Boston Garden. We had front row seats so during the parade I could almost pat Trigger as he and Roy rode by us. It was the same with Buttercup and Dale. Pat Brady drove by us in his Nellybelle. I loved watching the horses, especially the bucking broncs. There were covered wagons pulled by oxen, rodeo clowns in barrels and so many horses. It was one of the neatest things I’d ever seen.

When I was growing up, almost nothing was boring. I had woods and a field below my house. I could pick wild blueberries on the bushes near the water tower or chase grasshoppers across the field through the tall brown grass. The paths crisscrossed the woods and field. Horses on the field across the road always came to the fence. I dreamed of grabbing their manes, jumping on and taking off across the field. It never happened which was a good thing.

I went out on the deck right in front of the back door to survey the yard. I noticed paper from the trash and something orange. I realized the orange objects were the socks from the hospital stolen from my bedroom by a marauding thief, the lovely Miss Nala. I decided I didn’t care as I just couldn’t walk all the way there and up and down the stairs, but then…The back door wouldn’t open. It had locked itself. That had happened one other time last winter, but this time I was just fine as I knew the front door was open. I tentatively went down the stairs one step at a time holding on to the rail for dear life. I got through the gate then rested. I got to the grass then rested. I walk a bit across the grass then rested again. I was exhausted. When I got into the house, I unlocked the back door then collapsed on the couch. I think it’s close to nap time.

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