Gingerly walking along a dirty frozen path (with just a hint of melt) will imbue you with the false sense of invincibility.
Life is beautiful (or soon will be).
Wave to the Geese Police in his van. He will wave back and hide his face (with shame). Not a good omen, crossing his path, especially with respect to the warning on the back fender: Get the Flock Out.
Rejoice on March 21st over what will be the final snowfall of winter in Jackson Heights. Extoll the wondrous snow covered trees, their enchanting beauty. Believe with cautious optimism you will not likely witness this snow globe for at least another 6 or 7 months (and that the use of a shovel in order to move your car will be banished for same).
Celebrate by taking a drive to the east end of Long Island with your very significant other. Specifically, to Watermill.
View the work of east end artists at the Parish Museum, specifically the work of Fairfield Porter, an artist with a deep understanding of color.
Ooh and aah. Love life.
Prolong the feeling of unfettered bliss that viewing art invokes. Enjoy the escape into nature so far from the city. Traverse the snow-covered grounds of the museum (where sirens; honking horns and thumping car stereos are long out of earshot).
Regard a tree standing upright before a deep blue sky of puffy clouds. Take a photo.
Notice the quartet of misshapen trees.
Heed the scrawny Charlie Brown tree beckoning to you (“culprit”). Scale a low guard rail with your right foot to photograph sad little tree. Lose your footing. Skid down a 45-degree angle. Try to brake with your heel. Sharply descend toward the inverted point of a triangular trough, deceptively masked by snow cover.
Wrench your foot; twist your ankle. Succumb to immobilizing pain.
Break your ankle in not 1, but 2, places. Proceed to Peconic Bay Medical Center in Riverhead (ominously, where S.O. and I were transported by ambulance after a car accident in September 2012).
Welcome with gratitude the splint administered to foot and leg by caring staff; accept a gift of crutches and excellent pain killers. Elevate bad foot on the dashboard on the ride home.
Stop at Starbucks for chai latte and much needed sugar fix. Request to your S.O. for no sudden stops is duly noted.
Visit orthopedist in Manhattan on March 23. No plaster cast for you! Instead, foot is installed in heavy black foam and plastic boot (lint magnet), misnomered as “walking cast.” (Due to pain when boot touches ground; and heavy thick unstable rocker sole renders boot impossible to walk in).
Secure boot to leg with 5 strips of velcro threaded through respective rectangular hardware.
You must sleep in this boot. It weighs a ton. You must elevate your leg all day. You must remove boot for intermittent icing of the ankle and foot. You must continue this regimen daily until next doctor visit.
You must continue navigating the apartment on crutches.
Revisit orthopedist on April 6. Continue with daily regimen. Plan on 6-8 weeks to heal.
To stave off cabin fever:
You will read cover-to-cover January, February and March back issues of The New Yorker (N.B., in March 9th issue – powerful story by Toni Morrison).
You will read Skeletons of the Zahara by Dean King (unputdownable, true story of survival that ends well for the main character).
You will continue with obsessively readable essay collection called Loitering by Charles D’Ambrosio.
You will begin reading We Are Not Ourselves by Matthew Thomas (set in your current environs of Woodside and Jackson Heights).
You will finish reading back issues of Poets & Writers magazine.
You will watch art films lasting over 3 hours (mostly Russian, Turkish and Scandinavian). You will watch Trip to Italy twice.
You will re-watch Swan Lake ballet DVD for the umpteenth time.
Plan to visit orthopedist on April 27 for a new x-ray.