It’s so easy to blame myself for the last two months’ trauma. “If onlies” run through my head. If only I had paid more attention passing through security in Vancouver. If only I hadn’t been so careless playing with the dog. Sigh, an accident is an accident, is an accident.
About two weeks after my fall, I got a message from my youngest brother emphatically telling me to pick up the phone. My brother William who is 16 months younger than me had an accident and broke his left leg! (same as me). He lives in Asheville North Carolina and was preparing for Hurricane Helene that swept through in September. My 71 year old brother climbed onto the roof to clean out the gutters, caught his leg and had to be lifted off the roof by the Fire Department.
He spent a week in the hospital after surgery with no electricity, riding out the hurricane. Food and supplies were being delivered by helicopter. At home there was no damage to his house, only the loss of a freezer full of food. He is very grateful.
We talk frequently commiserating over our bad luck. There’s nothing like someone living the same experience, at the same time, to make you feel seen, even if they are a couple of thousand miles away. Maybe we have stupid genes running in our family but I doubt it. I spoke to another friend this week who reminded me that she broke her arm this time last year.
I don’t think we will stop making mistakes because we are older. We may think twice, or three times, but an accident, is an accident, is an accident.
DOS TORTAS
the adventures of dos tortas 
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