I’m traumatized.
I see young boys sporting fun, blazing on skateboards.
I look down sporting misery on a broken ankle replaying the record.
Has it not happened to them yet?
Is there a thought about breaking a fall or a near journey to regret?
About a plate and a surgeon drilling screws?
And how the cold will come on certain days and remain stuck in the hardware? Knowing this, would they have pursued?
I’m traumatized.
This was my freak of nature, a happy accident.
I listen as the longboard wheels taunt me on the street as if money was well spent.
I watch every skater tumble down in my head
Without control — I feel their bone shift from a hidden force warning red.
I can hear the break like a lonely branch being stepped on.
I feel the lost of life due to a split second – and months of a thousand recovery songs.
I’m traumatized.
But I want to believe I’m fine.
I’m not a snowboarder.
And I didn’t attempt a 50-50 grind like some type of adrenaline junkie explorer.
Now I can’t wait, yet I’m waiting.
I put 70% of killer pain on my foot for 5 minutes straight – devastatingly.
Two months and the physical therapists have me in a sneaker – functional training!
And is it crazy?
How all the sad parts and all the bad parts still make these moments breathtaking.


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