Yesterday, I went on one of the greatest walks of all time with my husband and our dogs. We enjoyed the overcast sky, as the sun peeked through sporadically. The breeze knew exactly when to pick up and gently surround us. And don’t get me started on the tree lined streets and magnificent view of our neighborhood. I felt great. I felt strong. I felt like the pieces of my healthy life were finally coming together, and then I stepped on a thorn… like a real huge thorn.

We have agave plants in our back yard, and somehow, the tip of one of those suckers made its way in front of our garden. It has become my habit to water our garden when we come back from our daily walks, and so, that is what I was doing when the thorn pricked my flip flop and sank into the ball of my foot. Can you say, OUCH?

My husband says this all sounds like a fairy tale gone bad. “Then, the maiden pricked her foot on the thorn and fell into a deep sleep for 100 years.” Hopefully, I’ll live happily ever after when this stupid puncture heals, but right now, I’m sitting on the couch, leg elevated, missing my beautiful walk from yesterday.

This morning, I tried to walk a bit, but the pain in my foot is no joke. I can’t believe a simple thorn can do such damage… but isn’t that just slap you in the face symbolic of life? Here you are going through your day, killing it, and feeling mighty, when some dumb old thorn punctures your bliss bubble, and you’re knocked on your rump, again. Typical. Right?

Though I know this is just an annoying setback, it still chaps my hide. I want to walk my dang dogs, but my stupid swollen foot screams every time I take a step. So, instead of putting on my walking shoes, I’ll just sit here, drink my coffee, and complain to you. Ha! Sounds about right. I know that if I can just be patient, and allow my foot to heal, I’ll be back on that beautiful walk in a few days. Now, if I can just tell that to my stubborn heart… that’d be great.