Beethoven by Thanksgiving
After seventy-one years of using my right arm, it was hard to suddenly be impaired. The doctor called it a torn rotator cuff, this ripping of a tendon from my arm bone. All I knew was that I felt a lot of pain which I tried to limit by not using my arm. That would be my dominant arm, the one bearing the brunt of every pound I lift, the one I depend on to write a note, drive a car, and lift a hot casserole from the oven. So, I had the surgery, the surgeon sewing that tendon back in place. (Who knew you could use needle and thread on a bone?) I’m thankful for the nerve block that lasted the first one and a half days because even with it, the pain was fierce. The ice machine helped, though...
Innocence
Faces devoid of guile, the twin fawns raise their heads and watch as I walk by. Their mother stands near, alert to my presence, but seemingly unconcerned as she resumes grazing. They’re called urban deer, these animals that roam my neighborhood. Many people consider them a nuisance since their tendency to eat flowers and trees negatively impacts landscapes. To me, they’re a gift. The small spotted babies, white tails flipping, are the picture of innocence. They look at me with black, unblinking eyes, unafraid. I minimize my movements to keep from startling, not wanting to frighten them, but at the same time hoping they will fear humans. Hunting season, after all, is just around the corner....
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