It would have been funny, if it hadn’t been so potentially tragic – at least for me.
As it turns out, the only thing to lose its life was my humongous ‘Goliath’ tomato plant.
Here’s what happened.
Brenda and I went camping this weekend. We returned home late last night and she dropped me off at my drive-way. I gathered up the results of a brief shopping spree at our favorite plant shop – Blooms and Blossoms in The Point, and proceeded to round the front corner of her truck.
My arms were filled with the results of our foraging for garden items including Goliath and three pimiento peppers. In the dark I stepped into a pot hole and hit the ground hard – right on top of ole Goliath.
Paralyzed for the moment, I looked up into Brenda’s headlights and prayed she wouldn’t run me down.
As she fiddled with the radio she didn’t see me crash and burn, and prepared to pull into her own drive-way across the street. Something or someone stopped her. Maybe it was the party of young adults who were carousing on Chip Carley’s porch and began yelling. Or maybe it was the man upstairs who decided it wasn’t yet my time.
Whatever, Brenda rushed around and pulled me up. My jeans were shredded and my knee was bleeding profusely. My left ankle is either broken or badly sprained. But hey, I don’t have tire tracks running through my skull, so all is well.
All I can think about is how badly she would have felt if she had put that car in gear. This morning as I limped into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee, I saw the world in a different way. I was go glad to be alive, I vowed never to take life for granted again.
In a way I’m kind of glad it happened. I’ve been sleep walking through life for a while now, and this episode was like being awakened by a bucket of ice water being dumped on my head.