I was cleaning out my purse and forgot that I carry Her with me. Her last rosary and two coins from our trip to France when I was a teenager. It surprised me to find these, even though I was the one who put them where they were. Opening the thinning Asian-style purse, the rosary came out in pieces. I don’t remember if it had always been like this or if the links gave way from prayers lost and
She barely whispers “Good Morning” when she comes into my room. She thinks I may be asleep. Most times though, as soon as her key slips through the deadbolt, I am instantly awake. My hearing that acute, my alertness that intense. I let her think she has woken me up, using those few sweet minutes to ready my mind because I know that I take time. She always asks how I spent the night. I actually stop and think about
I don’t write about my main condition often. In fact, I barely mention it’s name in real life (Kugelburg-Welander Syndrome, Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA), Type 3 or just SMA3). Besides the naming of it not doing much to manage or change it’s effects on me, no one knows WHAT all its name implies or what its effects on me are. So this usually has me launching into a super simple explanation of how this syndrome is my muscles’ inability to
For the past month, I have been creating… but not like you’d think. I’ve been giving answers to questions on paperwork to create means to clear up my backyard, still. I’ve been making phone calls, creating and rekindling connections. I’ve been taking inventory of our kitchen, creating a situation where ‘food insecure’ and our home no longer appear in the same sentence… except for this one, in words only. I’ve been making boundaries, creating safe spaces where I can rest.
I don’t remember what her face looks like. I remember that she had brown skin like mine, that she was wiry, where my own Mom had not been and that she had this boundless energy that I could not for the life of my five year old self, understand. What her sole mission seemed to be though, was to make me walk from one end of the hallway to the next, despite myself. At first it seemed simple enough: she