Sunday, May 6, 2012

According to Plan (or not)

The couch was green.  Not a forest green or a pea green, but a bright, green apple green, like the caramel apple lollipops that leave your teeth stuck together with a pucker on your lips from the sour.  The firm cushions support her curled form as the tears course down her cheeks in rivulets.

Too many could they kick them out now?  They knew the baby was coming and they'd still signed the paperwork, but now?  Now?

She buried her head in the pillow and cried until the tears wouldn't come any longer.  The baby cried tearing her from her sorrow; forcing her to stand, to move on.

Fast forward nine more months...

Her arm is throbbing.  The spot on her arm that was a pinprick just hours ago is swollen and red and her arm tingles as she sits.  The clock ticks incessantly marking seconds lost, precious time she would never get back and she waits.  The door opens and words she never expected spill out of the woman's mouth,
"We gave you the wrong shot."

She looks to her arm and to the woman and back again.  Her astonishment continues as they treat her and send her on her way.  

The next morning dawns early, as it always does with small children.  Eyes parting, the day is normal and predictable for all of thirty seconds until she remembers her arm, though today it feels different.  Her fingers aren't working the way they should.  Panic begins to set in as she wakes her husband and makes him watch her try to move her fingers.  They are stiff and unbending to her will.  And so the domino falls that careens into the next domino and the next until her life and her career as a sign language interpreter looks nothing like she expected it would. 


I'm so enjoying sharing my life with you.
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