Reading the Signs

"All coincidences, traced to their origins, are seen to have been inevitable."

Sanskrit Proverb


I'm an old soul.  I was older than my parents on the day I was born. I'm psychic too, or at least deeply intuitive.  I can't count how many times I've had premonitions of events to come.

 

 I don't talk much about my psychic abilities because when I do, even my own husband seems skeptical.  But on September 3, I most certainly had a clear presentiment of my impending fall.  


All day long, as I walked up and down the steps in my split level house, I clung tightly to the bannister. "You better be careful," the little voice in my head kept whispering.  "You could fall down.  It could happen any time now."  


And the next day I did fall, but I didn't fall in the house; I fell on the street a couple of hundred feet away from the top of my driveway.

 

 An acorn rolled under my foot and as time slowed down, I seemed to watch my own body pitch forward.  On the way down, I heard the voice in my head again. But this time, the voice wasn't whispering, it was screaming.  " I TOLD you to be careful! I TOLD you you could fall!  I TOLD you it could happen any time!"


*   *   *


I lay in the street. A fat crow sat in the tree overhead and seemed to eye me disdainfully before cawing and taking off.  I watched his black underbelly glide effortlessly against the morning sky and disappear.  Then the street was silent except for the frenzied yipping of the schnauzers behind curtained windows at the old Pare house. 


I was pretty sure I couldn't get up.  I knew that my right leg was broken.  I continued laying in the street and began calling for help.  I called as loud as I could but no neighbor peeked out the window or cracked open a door.  Not a single car came by either. Like the rest of Oak Ridge, Wendover Circle was deserted and desolate. 

 

"I'm just going to have to get home by myself," I thought. I was about 200 feet away from the top of my driveway.  I tried to stand up but my right leg crumpled.


I pondered my situation for a moment.  Then I began what seemed like an endless journey, crawling and dragging my injured body home.

 

Thank God my son had not yet left for class!  His old Monte Carlo was still parked in the driveway.  


"Walker, Walker!"  I yelled.  Walker ran up the driveway.  "I can't get up," I said. "My leg's broken. Drive your car up here."  Somehow, my strong son got his injured mother in the car.  "Call your dad," I said.  "Tell him to come home.  He'll have to drive me to the hospital in your car"  


*   *   *


A week later, as the nurses were prepping me for surgery, one of the them unwrapped my leg and said, "Have you SEEN her leg?"  The other nurse looked down.  "Oh my God, you must be tough!" 

 

 Actually, I hadn't seen it either.  It had been tightly wrapped and in a stiff brace for a week and I had pretty much been immobilized and in a hydrocodone stupor.  

 

I sat up on the gurney and examined the mottled, mustard yellow and purplish bruise running the length of my leg from knee to ankle.  "I guess I am tough," I said.  "I was by myself and dragged myself home."

 

 Then I lay back down and winced as the nurse began gently scrubbing my leg.  "This too shall pass," I thought. "This too shall pass."  



Falling


There's a bloody red crack

In the shell of the sky

I stumble, legs buckle

I'm broken inside


Like an insect, I crawl

The road home's so long

If my arms were wide wings

Like a bird, I would fly



Yes, I guess I am a tough old bird. I'd like to think I'll never have to be that tough again.  But I will and so will you.  No one gets out of this world uninjured or alive.


Be strong, be well and good luck,

Martha Maria 


P.S.  As always, I ask you to share my website with someone today.  I'm an indie artist.  I depend on word of mouth advertising from kind people like you.  Thanks.  








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