Grace

 

My father always called me grace.  If there was a corner or edge, I would hit it.  If there was a doorframe, I had a new bruise on my shoulder.  Moved furniture?  Broken toes.  I could hit the same place, the same object, numerous times.  I never learned.  I have absolutely no idea where that bruise came from.

 

 We moved boxes yesterday.   I haven’t gotten my furniture, yet.   

  

When I was younger, I had a Great Dane.  If there was an animal I could compare myself to, that is the animal.  Big and clumsy.  I am guessing quite unaware of its own size.  Always bumping into everything.  That is me.  I’m a Great Dane .  A Great Dane named Grace.

 

 

That is where I fell yesterday.

 

 

Still waiting on most of the colors to show up.   I may need to be bubble wrapped before my next attempt at moving.