Tonight was the first time I've been able to attend writing meeting since it resumed from summer break. I entirely forgot about the first meeting and the second one was last Monday when Dwight was in the hospital. It was nice to get back and catch up with all my writing cronies.
The writing exercise we were given tonight was based on travel. We were to use the following sentence to write something and then we had to pick a mode of transportation out of an envelope. The sentence was: "I knew it was a mistake to travel by ------when... The mode of transportation that was on my slip of paper was tricycle.
At first I thought this a little ridiculous, but then my imagination took off. We had twenty minutes to write the short story. This is what I wrote:
I knew it was a mistake to travel by tricycle when my knees kept hitting the handlebars. However, since my sister wrecked my car, it was either ride the antique tricycle that was stored in my garage, or walk. I decided to try the tricycle because my arthritic knees refuse to allow me to walk far.
As I started out, my knees cried in protest as they banged against the handlebars each time the pedal completed a turn. Determined to get to the pharmacy for my much-needed meds, I forged ahead. Whack, whack, whack. Each time my knees hit the metal handlebars they screamed in protest, but I set my jaw, gritted my teeth against the pain and rounded the last corner. Blood pounded in my ears. The pain made me feel faint. Only a half block to go, I knuckled down and pedaled for all Iwas worth. Finally, I arrived at the front door.
I half stood and half fell off the tricycle, then hobbled into the pharmacy. How would I ever make it back home? At this rate I'd be laid up for a month, unable to put one foot in front of the other.
I paid for my meds and shuffled toward the front of the store, dreading the return trip. When I stepped outside, much to my surprise, the tricycle had vanished. I looked around the building. No luck.
An elderly lady sat on a bench in front of the drugstore.
"Did you happen to see an old tricycle?" I asked.
"Oh yes," she replied. "A man with a truck load of scrap metal threw it in the back of his truck and drove off."
So, my antique tricycle, the one my Grandpa had given me for my third birthday, had been stolen...my only mode of transportation at present. Now I would have to hoof it, or maybe not.
As I rode home in the taxi, excruciating pain shooting through my knees, I shed tears for that tricycle that I had spent so many happy hours on as a child.
I had known it was a mistake to travel by tricycle when my knees kept hitting the handlebars. Why hadn't I heeded my conscience?
It is kind of a crazy story, but it was fun to write. If anyone would like to give it a try, just let me know and I will send you a mode of transportation. Sometimes we just need to do something silly.
As per an update on hubby, he is doing okay. His vision has not been affected by the stroke, but he does tire easily. He walks Dakota and rests, but is getting back into his normal routine. He has to have a doppler on the 9th because the doctors suspect that the arteries in his neck are blocked. I will post another update when we find out more. Thanks to everyone for your concern, support and prayers