That's a picture of my wounded knee, I believe there is also an account of the Battle of Wounded Knee involving the Sioux Indians, but that's an entirely different story. That injury is a week old, but still remains painful and ugly. I didn't blog about it a week ago, because another blogger blogged about his unfortunate fall and I didn't want to start the me tooisms. Seeing that it's been a week, I'm thinking I'm out of the woods for a me tooism.
The blogger was walking while texting. I was just walking, no other distracting activities were taking place. Ironically, I had just worked out with Mrs. Barbara, a very fit lovely 53 year old woman who once tried out for the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders, while we were doing a spinning routine, she related to me two stories of her falling last summer. I'm wondering if those stories didn't implant a certain disposition to my fall taking place.
Monday wasn't a good day. It started on a positive note, but then as the morning progressed things began to take a downward slide. A firing of a friend ensued, then that friend cried, which then in turn caused me to cry. She was my carpool buddy, she made the 22 mile drive every morning and every afternoon quite pleasurable. Now, I take that drive alone.
Have you ever experienced a surreal moment? Something that feels so dreamlike and unbelievable? Another teacher came to my class, and motioned me to the hallway with a look of utter incredulity. I went into the hallway, then the teacher told me that I needed to go talk to Wendy. I asked, why...what's wrong? The words she uttered literally echoed in my brain..."She just got fired." I think I may have let a swear word slip, I'm not sure.
I walked into her office and saw her eyes, swollen and red, chest heaving with small convulsions. I fought back the tears. I listened to her. I listened to him. I didn't say a word. I grabbed an empty box, and in a dreamlike state, started to remove the pictures of her family. I held a frame holding a photo of her, her husband and three children. I gingerly placed it into the box. I reached for a small green photo album, entitled Braddux, her grandson that was just born and I placed that into the box. Slowly and carefully I removed the items, while she sat dumbfounded...still weeping. How quickly those walls became bare. How quickly the evidence of someone who was...removed completely. It was truly a surreal moment.
After all the items were safely tucked into the box, I picked up the box and told her come on let's go. I walked with her on her final walk from that school, and then that's when I started to cry. The surreal had become all too real.
The P Slate: Top down
5 hours ago