Down and Up

I was laying on the sofa and Scott was laying on the opposite sofa, teasing and goading, which is standard practice for him.  I don’t remember what he said that inspired the act, but I jumped up and started crossing the room with the full intention of pouncing on him.

My foot slipped on the hardwood floor and I went down hard on my left knee and my right hand.  Scott was immediately right there, and so was Midas.  Funny how my mind couldn’t wrap around the idea that I was in one moment moving fast and in the next moment stunned and still, trying to evaluate how bad I was hurt or not.  The bruise on my knee was immediate, but the weird thing was the cramp and feel of the strain on the back of my knee – the Achilles tendon.  My wrist was fine enough to bitch-slap anyone, if necessary.  I had a slight limp for an hour or so.  By the afternoon when we went swimming, not an ounce of pain – but the bruise looks pretty nasty.

***

We put Midas in the house and closed all the windows and put the A/C on.  The stereo sounds we hoped would drown out the majority of the firework sounds.  We were going to drive the Cavalier convertible and made it five miles from home when the oil light warning went off, and then we watched the oil gauge drop from full to nothing.  Pulling into a side street, we parked the car, Scott looked under the hood, and then we started walking to a nearby gas station.  Neither of us brought our cell phones (now THAT feels like being naked in public).  In the middle of a block was a church.  Scott went back to the car to verify the address and I was the brave one – I went into the church to see if I could use a phone. The interior was beautiful with lots of stained glass in the rotunda, 360 degrees of color and light.  The pastor was friendly – he immediately made his office available.  I called Mark and Rommel and told them our situation.  Scott came in and we were going to make another call for a cab, but a parishioner said she was going that way and would gladly take us back home.  I loves me some good Samaritans.  Both Scott and I have driven past the church many times, but neither of us had been inside before.  The pastor invited us back, any time.  When the lady dropped us off in front of our house, she commented on the tree and the flowers and wanted to know who had the green thumb.  Scott and I each pointed at the other and she laughed and wished us both well.

All in all, we got to Mark and Rommel’s only an hour late.  We brought some of the honey pale lager home-brew and a peach pie from Marie Calendars.  They spoiled us with cheese and grapes, wine and filets on the grill.  Sitting on the patio, looking out over their valley and seeing Mt. Diablo off in the distance and the sliver of moon on the west hovering over the west horizon, I felt a peace and calm that is still new enough to be filled with wonder and awe.  Rommel had been playing Janet Jackson’s newest album, but then he swapped it out for a cd of Andrea Bocelli in Tuscany.  The meal, the wine, the dessert, and more importantly, the company, were sublime.

I don’t have a religion, but I have religious experiences.