a bump on the head

My parents had these friends, Anne and Hutch. They were all buddies together during the war on the US Navy Base at Argentia, Newfoundland. Hutch was a sailor who married Anne, a Newfoundland girl. They used to come visit my parents in the summer when they were on the way back from the states, over forty years after they had all met. Anne had a recurring story about the time she was swimming, got over her head, and Hutch watched from shore as she nearly drowned. It would start out sort of light but then she would get serious, and more and more irritated at Hutch as he sat there saying that in fact, he had not been trying to drown her as she claimed.

I always found it odd that she went on about this so long after the fact.

Ahh, until  last Sunday, now I know.

You see we were invited to a potluck at the beach. I had made a big bowl of  Tabouli salad, using quinoa instead of crushed wheat, and orange tomatoes fresh from the garden. It was parsley Robert grew and it was all laid out in a beautiful blue glass dish.

It was pouring rain most of the day so we decided to drive up the lane instead of walking. It was hosted by a neighbour at the shore, and we were all gathering for an end of season potluck. It was labour day Monday.

We got out of the car, and I reached in the back seat to get the salad, but Robert said, it is back here. He had put the salad in the hatch back of our Ford. I went around to reach in to get the salad. I picked it up, turned around. While I stood there my husband closed the hatchback door right on my head.

I laid down the tabour and hopped around in pain, then finally mustered up enough patience to say, ” what were you doing?”

It hurt. I had a pain in the head. I can still feel it. Even as I write this I am getting pissed off again. Maybe I should stop. Hit the delete button. No, No, No, what was he thinking?

At first he said, I thought you had moved., but a little later in the conversation, after the tiger had tamed a little, he had the gall to say, “What were you doing still standing there?”

For the love and honour of goodness…I was getting the salad.

He wanted me to take some responsibility for having my head banged with the hood of the trunk by him. Well you know that did not go well.

Any way, all in all, I was okay.

I gathered myself together, rubbed my head, wondered about concussions and headed up to the door. The host, Rob, a very tall man, greeted me at the door , wondering if I needed an ice pack.

I said, you saw that did you?

He said, he had only witnessed the aftermath and had pieced things together.

That would have been me rubbing my head, with an angry puzzled look on my face, admonishing a grown man.

Oh he has been married for years, he knew the route, all this was no surprise to him.

I managed with out the cold pack.

I can still feel the bump.

Supper was lovely.

Robert was truly sorry a little later, but better late than never.

And on my walk I thought about Anne and Hutch, and I knew that in a long marriage there is lots to talk about.

Sorry I have no pictures of the event. It never occurred to me at the time to record this for the blog.

I was busy cursing under my breath.



10 thoughts on “a bump on the head

  1. Hilarious storytelling! You have such a way with humor. When you’re telling it on yourself, you invite us to laugh with you. I’ll read this one over and over.


  2. so sorry about your head…it could, indeed, have been serious…
    glad you had a good time anyway…and feel better…
    would it help if you knew the empathy I’m sure we all feel?
    I love that Rob “pieced things together”, “knew the route”, and took it in stride!
    how is it that things like this can be so alike in so many different instances?
    life is a wondrous and mysterious thing…


  3. Oh yes married life -the joys -the irritations- it can sometimes take years to find the humor in
    What happened. Glad your okay and that your hooking hand wasn’t injured.


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