Meaningful words and Happy Endings

I wanted to pass this story and blog along to you guys and gals.  This particular story was pure gold!  Here’s a little piece but you really need to read the whole thing because there’s actually a happy ending!

I was fourteen but in spite of my hyper-self-consciousness, it never occurred to me to be embarrassed about my mother’s weight, or even her uniform. I was too concerned with how I appeared to people.

I didn’t think much, either, about the apparently permanent sore on her shin, a hole perhaps half an inch in diameter and a quarter-inch deep, surrounded by a dark purple, almost black bruise that covered her lower front leg nearly from ankle to knee.

Or that in the evenings as we watched our black-and-white TV in the dark together, eating fast-food burgers and fries, she scratched the tops of her feet until they bled.

“Stop that,” I would say from time to time, and she would try, but the itching was unbearable. I can still hear the dull scratching sound, see the white-purple rash.

We were Christian Scientists. Doctors were quacks. I don’t know if Mom ever prayed to make the itching go away or the sore to heal, but they didn’t. I had no idea they were signs of diabetes, even though that’s what had killed my father when I was six.

I hope you’ll check out LaVonne’s story.  I want to be able to tap into my emotions and memories like she does and get them down on paper (or this blog).

About Maureen, Living in a Van

I'm a free-sleeper living in a van in the prettiest part of the world. I do this partly due to financial circumstances and partly because I love a good adventure.
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