So last week, a brick flew off of our roof, bounced once, and hit me in the toe.
I know.
There are a lot of weird things about this little antecdote.
Like, what was a brick doing on our roof?
How do bricks fly?
What was my toe doing in the line of fire?
It was all a mess of bad timing, is what I thought.
A roof leak.
Into a newly finished dining room.
Regular rain after months of drought.
No roofers available, so a tarp in the meantime.
A sudden wind.
A blustery tarp, capable of tossing bricks.
And me… gone out to take a look at things.
Boy, did I.
That little run-in woke me all the way up.
Which, in the end, was what I took away from it.
No such thing as just bad timing, I’m thinking now.
Just reminders — subtle and then not so — to pay attention, act on our knowledge, keep it moving.
In this case, there was a little leak… a little rain… a little wind.
Nope?
Not gettin’ it yet?
How about a brick!
At least it bounced.
So.
I get the message and the roofers have been by.
But there are plenty of other bricks in my life that I oughta be stacking up with design and mortar before they hit me.
You?
Poor Toe
With much appreciation of your philosophical points, I’m worried about your toe. Does it need chicken soup?
Re: Poor Toe
I’m with Cynthia! Are you on crutches or something now? Yikes.
Jules
7-Imp
Re: Poor Toe
Oh, Cyn and Jules, you guys are so sweet. Thank you! I am not on crutches. The wound was/is “gross,” according to my girls, but the toe is not broken so as long as I keep tending to it, I’ll survive…
Ouchie! My cousin and I used to have to move the bricks around in my grandparents’ yard when I was a kid (they had a huge stack left from a fireplace they took out and we had move them every time Nana had another great idea.) So we would toss them from one place to the other, playing catch. In the summer. In thongs.
I have had many a brick on my toes and they hurt like the Dickens (what DOES that mean?)
Is it broken? Again, ouchie.
But great outlook.
Tanita Says 🙂
Ouch. What a wakeup call. Mine came with closing my finger in a door — balancing on one foot, trying to get something out of a closet with the door open for light instead of just, oh, turning on the light and going in and letting the door close behind me. Bizarre, the things we do.
All manner of things are balancing, and I need to move fast with the mortar. Happy building.
And here we were talking about symbolism last night at the kidlitchat on Twitter. Bricks did not come up. Or toes.
I’m glad your poor wounded foot is healing and not broken. But I do want to say: HEY, UNIVERSE! Liz gets it! (Did you not read her books???) Go toss bricks at people who talk in movies or something!
The universe does have a way of waking us up! Best wishes for a speedy toe recovery.
(Hope you don’t mind if I friended you–I seem to keep following you in the comment trails.)