Knees, elbows and hands caught the brunt. I took quick stock to determine whether or not any bones were sticking out. Nope. Two days later, I'm sporting a few bruises, several scrapes and yes, I'm sore. And now I have as yet another instance to add to the collection of close encounters of the Ana kind with this manmade material.
When I was a kid my cousin and I were riding a bicycle built for two when we slipped on a patch of dirt and keeled over, scraping along on cement until the bike stopped rolling. I still bear the scar on my right knee. Another was the night my forehead made contact with cement stairs leading into my house thanks to brand new and slippery shoes. I got nine stitches for my trouble.
And now I've got another divot on my right knee about an inch from the first one. I'm hoping it will heal nicely but the jury is out on that one.
I suppose I could blame gravity, but I think there's something deeper going on, a cosmic search for something which yet eludes me. Perhaps it is the Universe trying to tell me that like all other humans I'm a bag of bones and blood that will encounter forces stronger than myself and must learn to cope or avoid them.
Whatever. All I know is that I have flashbacks to the bicycle ride or those cement steps coming at me from time to time, and now they will be joined by the sidewalk.
If anybody can invent spongy cement, call me and I'll help you market the product.
Amen, and pass the bandaids.
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