The battle of my weather-predicting knees

Aging knees
Rain or snow coming? Just ask my knees.

“Your middle name must be Grace,” she surmised, placing bandages on my scraped-up knees.

“No, it’s Catherine,” I replied, unwrapping the lollipop she placed in my skinned-up hands.

It took me a few decades to realize that my friend’s mother wasn’t really trying to guess my middle name.

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