i am typing with one left thumb.
there will be no capitalization of letters, no editing of words, no obsessive-compulsive angst over punctuation, no matter.
instead, as sergeant friday said every friday from 1951 through 1959 on nbc, just the facts, mam.
just the facts.
it was a flash flood florida night with rivers of rain running down the padded slip-proof ramp to our back yard as i struggled to carry our 16 year old, 23 pound dearly departed Pekingese-Bulldog mix, echo, to safe haven until his intended next day burial.
first the fasteners holding the padding burst loose. then we slipped, slid, tumbled, and crashed to the ground.
my right hand looks like a five digit foam finger.
my right wrist will undergo a second surgery to insert a steel plate and seven screws.
my right shoulder has been realigned.
i am the color purple.
but both EMTs said they were sorry for the loss of our dog.
every nurse on duty stopped by my unit to offer their condolences.
the emergency room resident, radiologist, anesthesiologist, attending physician and surgeon each expressed sincere sympathies.
the woman in the curtained room adjoining mine called out her concern.
there is nothing quite as comforting as the compassion shown by others.
it, like every earth angel, is a gift to the heart.
be well. do good.
see you all of a sudden!
# # #
marguerite quantaine is an essayist, novelist, author and animal rescue activist.
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Mothers, daughters, sisters, aunts, nieces, lovers, friends. With a public declaration on page one, this candid chronicle reveals how the thoughts and emotional conquests of women who love women differ instinctively from those of their parents and the male dominant heterosexual ideologies of a patriarch society.
In order to love truly and long, one must always put words — especially those spoken in spite — within the context of the moment, and decide whether past words spoken in love are more precious and true than those spewed in anger.
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