Broken Bones and Open Mics

My wrist was broken. Definitely broken. And fat. And blue. Tighten your watch up a bit, go to sleep and in the morning, you'll know exactly what my hand looked like. I'd saved this boy's shots before, I didn't realise he could've hit the ball so hard. I played on, which was bad enough, but I still had to drive home.

Letting go of the wheel when changing gears, would have been more of a fun game, if I wasn't in agony. Somehow I made it home.

This was all two months ago and the wrist is still goosed. However where it closed the chance of playing football it opened a new, unfamiliar activity - like those foyers on Sci-fi films that won't open the door to the unknown, unless the door to the ship is closed.

The alien planet is an open mic night. You'd think having a broken wrist would hinder playing the guitar more than it would kicking a footy but the wrist has been fine with movement, it just wouldn't hold the strength of a fall, or a ball, or a wall, or a maul. Me and my dad play at this bar in town to an audience of about three people.

I've been going for about four weeks and it turns out my wrist is getting better too fast for my liking. I want to keep going but the open mic night falls on a monday (the same night as football). Doing something like this with my dad has been amazing for us both but I've been playing footy with my brother forever and I can't just quit him. The faster I recover, the more I run out of oxygen and need to get back on the ship. I just don't really want to.