It was a magical evening in May.
Two social events in the same afternoon.
Unusual, and needed.
To break up the pace of the workday routine.
Tomorrow: Mother’s Day.
Who would call?
Heaven. Sitting in someone else’s yard.
Gabbing: babies, parenting, prizes, honors,
children, politics.
The free association of an intimate soiree.
Then, time to go to meet some friends at a nearby pub.
We fairly sprang around the side of the house to avoid
pet allergies inside.
Surprise! The lawn sloped four feet down to our car.
Funny. We hadn’t noticed the incline on arrival.
When climbing some steps to the front door.
Come, I called. There are steps here somewhere.
I rushed to find them feeling the first drops of rain on my face.
I was alone.
Where are you?
Silence.
Thud. Two screams cut through the dampness.
And your ankle.
Ahead: instant change, confusion, pain.
Weeks of thump, thump.
The fiber glass cast.
Anticipating your entrance.
Lynn Benjamin
June 22, 2007