Eleven Twenty-Twos

My foot hurts. I don’t know why; it keeps its own council. But this morning when I first walked, it hurt.
Yesterday, it was my shoulder. It—creaked—whenever I moved it. And forget lifting or carrying anything. It was just determined to hurt.
My knees are always ‘iffy’. Most days, we get along. But occasionally, we are at odds. One or the other—or both.
And forget my memory. I mean, really forget my memory. Things from when I was 4 are crystal clear. Breakfast? Never happened.
I used to listen to ‘old people’ talk about their aches and pains. And think, “I will never get to that point!”
I was wrong. Now it isn’t unusual for a bowel movements discussion between Husby and me to take up an entire lunch.
How did I get here? I was young a moment ago. Strong. Elastic. Now I wear wrist and elbow guards to skate.
I worry about falling. What if I break into pieces and all the king’s horses and men can’t put me back together?
Getting old isn’t for sissies. There, I said it. My baby sister posted something yesterday that I think expresses this time nicely:
“I came. I saw. I forgot what I was doing, decided to retrace my steps and got distracted on my way back.
“Now I have no idea what’s going on and realized my hip hurts. And I have to pee.” Yep. This is me.


Today my fellow Word Counters and I are sharing our monthly group post. Each month one group member picks a number between 12 and 74. All participating bloggers are then challenged to write something (or a few somethings, as the case may be) using that exact number of words. Today's number is 22 and was generously donated by Karen of Baking in a Tornado!
Today we all share what we came up with.
Go and see what the others have created!
Karen
Mimi