I told Tim I didn't know what to write about today. He said I should write about a time I have gotten hurt. Broken an arm or something. I told him I've never broken my arm or leg. But, my mom did break my nose. Tim chimed in, “well, then you should write about what your mom and I have in common.” I'd forgotten Tim had also broken my nose....
In high school I had come home late from somewhere and missed dinner. My mom was pretty torqued with me for being late as well as not calling to let her know I'd be late. Remember, this is long before cell phones. I would have actually had to take time to not only find a pay phone but to find a quarter to call her. It was simply easier to be late. I was sitting on a chair. She was yelling. I was being flippant in my response. One thing led to another and as I bent over to pick my keys up off the floor she decided it she'd had enough of my back talking and smacked me across the face...except my face was in the process of moving so she managed to whack my nose rather than my cheek.
When Tim and I started dating we would do activities to keep ourselves out of 'trouble'. Scrabble. Hiking. Racquetball. We played racquetball at the local high school. I didn't realize how competitive Tim is until we got the rackets out and started banging the ball back and forth. Apparently, since it was Tim's turn to hit and ball he was going to hit it whether I was in the way or not. Before I knew it I was watching stars turn about above my head like in the cartoons. He'd clocked me a good one right across the bridge of my nose with his racket. I had NO idea I was supposed to move out of the way so he could get the ball. I thought it was good strategy on my part to stay in the way so he couldn't get the ball so I would get the point. I was wrong. Amazingly, I still married the man. Probably because he was so remorseful and took such good care of me while my nose gushed blood everywhere.
I guess the moral of the story is...just because someone breaks your nose doesn't mean they don't love you. It just means they're are passionate people.