When I was a child I was driving a snowmobile, I must have been about 10-11 years old…far too young to be riding much less driving alone…sure enough I got in an accident. I was riding alongside a snow fence…you know those fences they put up to keep the drifting snow from drifting too far, it creates a snowdrift right next to the fence, perfect for snowmobiles to ride on…or so I thought. My left knee was hanging off the snowmobile an inch too far and I got an inch too close to the fence. It caught my knee and ripped me off the machine. It also damaged my knee cap pretty bad. The snowmobile continued on without me, coming to rest with it’s runners on each side of a tree, no damage to it fortunately. As I was over at a friend’s house, wasn’t supposed to be riding the snowmobile without an adult (my mom’s edict), and had been going fairly fast in the yard…I was relieved there was no dents or dings to the sled. I limped my way over to the sled, turned it off, and made my way into my friends house to tell her what had happened. I immediately started to cry in an effort at sympathy as I had been in accident, probably was now reacting to the pain in my knee, and didn’t want to get into trouble. Since the sled was okay, the logic of two 10-11 year old kids was, everything is okay…right? I also didn’t want our parents to know because it would certainly curb our activities (I was a tomboy so we didn’t want that). I called for a ride home and hid it from my brother who picked me up, as well as my mom, whose eagle eye didn’t miss the bruise…she just didn’t see how severe the bruise was close up.
As a mom, I realize now I should have gone to the hospital for x-rays as apparently there was internal damage and that could have been fixed back then. But what 10-11 year old thinks like that? Instead, I hid my limp pretty well, the bruising (which was extensive) as well, and didn’t tell my mother until I too was an adult…but she kinda guessed in that whole mother-knows-all kinda way. Mom’s…we know things.
Today I hiked into town (since I live in a village outside of a major town in the Big Woods), it’s only a mile. I consider it my mandatory way to exercise since as a writer I frequently keep myself housebound…you guessed it…writing. My doctor would be proud at that two mile (one into town, one back) hike…including going to the restaurant I was headed for (Subway, this time), and the gas station to check my lottery tickets (I didn’t win you can tell or this would be a whole different blog!). I frequently have trouble with my joints due to chemotherapy and radiation from my cancer scare over a decade ago. But, I can’t help but wonder if my knee is due in most part to hiding my injuries as a child and keeping that secret from my Mom.
Occasionally I will be walking up stairs and that knee just gives out. It can be embarrassing in public. It is definitely annoying as I live in three-story duplex and whether I am going upstairs to the bathroom or the bedrooms, or downstairs to the rec room or laundry room…I can get ‘stuck’ on a step and unable to use that left knee properly. The cat has never been too sympathetic to my maladies…but I notice as she get’s older, she too has troubles with steps.
I can’t help wondering if it’s just the change in weather that has me thinking about my joints and most particularly my knee…or perhaps it was the mile hike in the beautiful fall weather, watching the leaves blow across my path into town, the ones left on the trees changing colors before they too will fall, or if it was the throbbing pain in my knee because I don’t use it often enough?
I don’t exercise as much as I could, but it is a great way for introspection and I have concluded I should have told my Mom that information so long ago. I also have concluded that kids are sneaky beings who bear watching. My own, I convinced them that I had eyes in the back of my head…but then that is a blog for another day.
Meanwhile, secrets….they are fun to figure out…
Small towns are notorious for secrets … but what if you bring your secrets with you?
Amy Adams arrives in Northpoint, Wisconsin on a Greyhound bus. Small towns are well known for not taking to strangers, but THIS stranger decides to stay.
Amy has a look around and to her, it ‘feels’ like home. She rents a cabin in the woods outside of town and proceeds to look for a place to open a store. Renting to own from one of the locals, she soon finds herself making friends and making waves. She won’t discuss where she is from and has nothing to say about her past.
People are extremely curious. This Southern Belle has them talking.
Abby Shipman, the Chief of Police in this neck of the woods is intrigued by the decidedly mysterious
and straight redheaded whirlwind that has blown into town. It’s curious that she won’t talk about her past and she is certainly uncomfortable around Abby … or is it cops in general?