I’ve been taking “Writing the Gorgeous Shipwreck of Middle Age” through Hugo House to sharpened my skills. The class is exposing me to different writing styles, including abecedarian, which means to write a series of sentences, topics, or phrases, which begin with “A” and go through “Z.”
I wrote the abecedarian below last week. And yes, above is the x-ray of my femur, which I still find astonishing that they were able to wiggle it back together without having to “open” up my thigh. My lower leg has half a dozen lines of sutures.
My shattered left leg
Breaking my left leg in five places.
Clouding my head with pain.
Drowning out the cries of my husband, wailing, “Ouch, ouch, ouch!”
Everything muddled because nothing makes sense.
Grasping for clarity.
Hot, so hot.
Ignoring logical as I yank at my helmet.
Jerking it off, as the good Samaritan implores me to lay still.
Lay flat, your spine could be broken.
Maybe, but I can feel the pain. So much pain.
Nothing to do but absorb the chaos.
Ouch, ouch, ouch!
Please stop this agony.
Quell my husband’s pain!
Redirect his pain to me.
Trust everything will be okay.
Urgency is now in the air, firefighters, EMT, sheriff, highway patrol, and an ambulance.
Xero pauses in their purpose.
Yelling, two “birds in the air” to whisk us away.
Zen falls over me, knowing we’ll survive.