old, older, and oldest

At 61, I’m still keeping secrets from my Daddy. WTF? My 84 year old father worries that, as a horsewoman, I’m going to get hurt. As anyone who knows, loves, and “messes” with horses will tell you, “He’s right: sooner or later there will be a misstep (no pun intended), and some harm will come to the human of the equine/human duo.” So finally it happened, after five years, I took a tumble and horse took a roll. So I have joined the ranks of the injured (once again). The last time I checked in on my Dad, he said, “I just know you’re going to get hurt on that horse!” Literally, these were his last words before the Sunday ride when I took the tumble. I dared not tell him of the injury prior to my surgery. Better to wait, I thought, to see how that turns out. Now that I’m home with my leg in the air, should I confess to the injury and explain why I can’t check on him this week? I called him today to do that, but he was not doing well. I hedged because he was already short of breath, and so I chose not to upset him.

Here I sit, like a teenager, fretting over keeping something from my parent. I’m old as dirt, for God’s sake. How can I still be reacting like a kid? I want to be able to help my Dad, but I am totally non-ambulatory. Tommorow’s the day I’ll come clean. I’ll call him to let him know that darn it, he was right! I kept messing around with that horse, and I got hurt!

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