The day before I turned 45, I counted the bruises on my body. No less than 26 that I could see. I have received most of those since started training to drive a motor coach. I’ve fallen down on ice, knocked traffic cones into my ankles while unloading them, and bumped my shins on the coach steps, run into interior parts of the coach with my thighs and calves. And my hands and arms have been bashed when hitting tires with a hex bar, and checking between the duals. A few have been caused by Jeff playfully poking me in the arm.
Oh well, I guess bruising is a fact of life with me. It will continue to be as I age. At least they are physical bruises, from “sticks and stones”…I haven’t received any to the heart.
“A torn jacket is soon mended, but hard words bruise the heart of a child”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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