Surviving is a Miracle

My journey through a glass door… and beyond.

image (and pain) by author.

Last Friday night didn’t go as planned. And that’s putting it mildly.

When I got off work, I planned to relax for a little bit before going to bed; after all, we had to get up early Saturday morning to drive to Virginia for Thanksgiving festivities with my family.

But before I could relax, I needed to go wheel in the trash cans. Normally, my trash cans would have already been in on Friday night, since my trash pick-up is on Thursdays. But of course, holidays delay things.

Getting the trashcans in wasn’t too difficult; it was a bit chilly, and while I thought to put on a warm jacket, I was also in my pajama bottoms and house slippers. It was chilly when I stepped outside, but by the time I was wheeling the bins back down my driveway, it was cold. And I was in a rush to get back into my warm house.

I assume what happened next was a mixture of me moving speedily — though I wasn’t running, just walking briskly — and the fact that I was wearing slippers instead of shoes. Granted, I’m also just clumsy; I’ve stubbed my right pinky toe multiple times in the last year alone — and I’m acutely aware of that because I broke that same pinky toe last year and it still likes to remind me of that adventure whenever it gets stubbed again.