Talking to Myself Seventeen

  Judy's flock of white rock chickens outside their chicken door.

Talking to Myself Seventeen April 12, Easter 2020

We never know what will happen to us
before it does. I’ve had many surprises–
some scary, some gifts I never anticipated.
I always learned. I rarely anticipated success, 
but it found me in unexpected places. 
Last Monday night I fell, with cane, walking 
from my couch bed to the bathroom and 
hurt my right foot. I took Tylenol and went
back to sleep. In our pandemic we’re told 
to stay away from hospitals “Call your
provider.” I emailed her: what to do? My
little toes were hurting a lot.”Go to an
orthopedic clinic.” “Which one?” The answer
came back: “Ortho Now for emergencies.
Call first.” Tim doubted it would be safe.
I called.  It sounded okay. They were
careful because of the coronovirus. I
Could come right away. We went. A
friend of Tim’s had given him a walker.
We took it and I put a sock on my foot.
We were seen right away. My foot was 
examined and x-rayed, Two small bones
were broken. Then they put on a boot 
to keep it in position for healing. “Come
back in four weeks or later, if it’s healing
well.” Living with a boot and a walker
isn’t easy. I take Tylenol when it hurts
a lot. Gifts arrive: a better walker. Janet,
when Tim is gone all day and Wag needs 
to go out. I can wash dishes and make 
my lunch and our supper. I read and write.
I can send emails. I look at the greening
world outside my window, watch our
dogs and hens in the backyard, hearing 
the morning roosters. Janet nestles
Wag in her arms, talks to the hens and
our Silver Polish rooster whom she 
admires. Friends write to me, and I
answer. My days pass slowly, but

my foot is healing.