Monday, May 9, 2011

A Mother's Day Post

My hand is healing slowly, casually knitting in the new skin, cell by cell, just as the clock ticks away, with no hurry or worry about my project schedule. Every night I take off the bandages and get into the shower to scrub off the remaining cream and take a close look, then rinse off and get a fresh set of bandages. As of last night my skin, except for the odd burn on the top of my foot, was completely closed.

During the fire a piece of black bubbling ooze landed on my left sandal and petrified, fused itself into the black plastic, where it remains as a present for me to cherish. Part of that glob landed on my foot, though, and I still have a small, angry flesh volcano at that spot.

I suppose I'm writing this because I used to say things like this to get a reaction from my mom, who's not here, again, this Mother's day. I wish I could turn back the calendar at least once a year and go visit her. And show off my bandages.

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