. . . was my oyster . . .
. . . as full of wonder and joy; as carefree; as full of potential but more importantly, full of fun. With a bicycle practically a permanent part of my anatomy, the neighborhood provided (what seemed like) endless miles to explore, numerous friends with whom many adventures were undertaken. Safe, secure, content and not a care in the world. . . except for possibly 'in which direction do I ride today?' One day, with some friends (who sometimes possessed less-than-noble motives), my bike and I ventured to the property of a nearby box-manufacturing facility. In the yard of the property, which was not secured by fence, wall or canine representatives, were stored rolls of paper (a necessary component of cardboard boxes) of all sizes and weights. For some reason which does not readily or otherwise come to mind mind now, we dismounted our vehicles and came in personal contact to a relatively small roll which was probably about four and a half feet tall, not very big in diameter, yet quite heavy; a fact which I was later to discover first-hand. Our close contact with the object eventually involved changing its position from vertical to horizontal. As we proceeded in our endeavor, the roll of paper somehow managed to attain its horizontal orientation upon the tip of the big toe on my right foot. Upon my return home and my walk through the living room where my parents were watching their evening television, I resorted to limping somewhat to relieve the pain of the injury I had sustained. When questioned about my unusual method of walking, I assured Mom and Dad that nothing was wrong. This for two reasons: 1. I was hoping the injury was minor and would not require any significant attention; 2. House rules said that my wanderings were to be confined to our neighborhood and I was NOT to cross the major thoroughfare to where the box company was located. Eventually I 'fessed-up.' The nail of my big toe on the injured foot was severely bruised (nothing broken, thank goodness). It eventually fell off being replaced by a brand new one.
My Oyster
©2017 Raymond M. Jozwiak
