it broke more than both my wrists, that snowboarding fall last monday.
it broke my ability to do many things for myself. it fractured my independence.
it exploded my previous gratitude of those around me, loving and caring for me. it expanded a dependence on others, particularly david.
it broke through my vulnerability threshold. it made me acknowledge my modesty and encouraged me to try to stand tall in my new temporary disability.
it broke what i knew about others around me. it both surprised me in all the best ways and surprised me in all the worst.
it broke my assumption that all things – all my relationships – all my work – would stay the same. it shattered any sense of security.
it further broke my trust in our country’s healthcare coverage. it pointedly drove home that point.
it broke through any calm-in-the-storm-around-us i had found. it exacerbated a profound sense of worry.
it broke my muse. it scared me, really scared me, and it made me wonder if i would play again, write again, perform again.
day 5. my quiet piano welcomed me into the studio. i stood in front of it. determined. and i played. nine fingers, not ten. not the hand-span of all other days, but never mind.
day 12. eleven days after breaking them i still wake up, after night’s elusive sleep, surprised to see my wrists, well, more accurately, my cast and hard splint.
i think, “here we go,” and i set out to see what’s beyond two broken wrists.