Stitches

No, not one of the boys.    Me.    Yes, that’s right-me. Monday I had driven to ballet and was going inside the studio, but I forgot to mention something to Maria. So, I went to climb back into the car where she was still sitting. Carrying my ballet bag in one arm, I used the other to heave open the car door, but I was parked on a slope and door swung back.

I hit my eyebrow right into the edge.

I saw the reflection of the cut in the window and thought, “Whoa, that could be serious!” I grabbed a napkin that was conveniently nearby and applied pressure, then made my way to the dance studio, knowing that I could check the cut out in the mirrors in the rooms. I still am laughing at myself because instead of immediately getting a teacher to help me, I first put on my ballet shoes. I was still planning on dancing! I was a little surprised then when my teacher insisted on calling Mom, who decided we should go to the doctor. Sure enough, I needed four stitches. After I came home, bandaid over my brow, I had to promptly brew my favorite herbal tea (honey vanilla chamomile) to unwind from the trauma.