I’ve fallen and badly injured my knee.
I was very angry at myself for being so reckless.
I now limp slowly across the room. It’s painful to watch and painful to do. It’s getting better but, a week later, I’m still having trouble moving.
The injury has turned me into an old man.
Eventhough my leg is hurt, oddly enough, even my hand movements have become slow. Perhaps to match the lower limb. The desire to rush around doing stuff, making my best use of time, has left me.
This is a good thing.
I sit on the bench in the garden with my walking stick. Instead of rushing looking for weeds or sweeping, I watch the clouds across the sky, the breeze caressing the leaves, a butterfly flitting between the flowers.
I clutch at the rail well before I get to the stairs. This is what I’ve seen old people do. Now that I’m like one of them, I understand.
I now appreciate the mobility I once took for granted. Yes, there’s the old saying: you don’t appreciate something until it’s gone.
As the elderly watch the younger ones, even middle-aged people like me, they must sigh and whisper “If only …”
I’ve fallen but that’s a good thing.