Age has given me a whole new perspective on my favorite childhood novel, “Weekend of Fear.”

I did it—I finally reached the age of where I did nothing but walk around in tennis shoes but still managed to hurt myself.

Over the weekend, I enjoyed the rare sunshine for a morning of yard work. I putted around, painting gates, thinning dead branches, even fertilizing the lawn. Not once did I move faster than a leisurely walk.

Once done, I went into the house and took off my shoes. When my bare left foot stepped down it felt like the blade of a knife went right up into the arch of my foot. I crumpled to the ground at the excruciating pain, but nothing showed on the bottom of my foot, not a bruise or goat head thorn—nothing. I even had my husband take a look. My foot looked fine to him. My foot doesn’t care—it still hurts like the dickens. I’m afraid of what ten more years will bring, if all it takes is a little yard work now to bring me to my knees.

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About janelleevans

I'm a sleep deprived mother of three. I create young adult novels from the voices in my head.
This entry was posted in Family Antics. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Age has given me a whole new perspective on my favorite childhood novel, “Weekend of Fear.”

  1. Jeremy Jensen says:

    It was just a Lego

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