In the early hours of themorning after the three-week anniversary of my fall, while running, I hear you get out of bed andcreak open the bedroom door, letting in the moonlight, and I call, can you makeme a piece of toast?

And when you return, minuteslater, with the thickly buttered slice, you ask if I want another, and I say, yes,and could I have hot milk with honey and whisky too? You laugh and say, youmust be feeling better.

And in that moment, I realise Iam, even though I still can’t move my left arm, or raise my shoulder and myelbow joint is like a swollen mound of risen dough, but hard.

We heal in small ways. Bread,milk, and honey. Kindness. And through the magical science of blood clottingaround the break, its meshwork of proteins plugging the gap, the immune system’sorchestra of inflammation, stem cells migrating from tissue, bone marrow andblood to form cartilage, more bone.

We are our own small miracles.We remake ourselves over and over. Tell me now of your own renewal. How yourose again from pain, loss or grief.

dislocation/fracture
we are so much more 
than  the bones ofourselves