Better than Deserve
My fingers pressed into the shaking hand of my friend a little harder as I watched her pretty brown eyes melt into watery pools. She was sitting in a hospital bed, exhausted and questioning God. “I feel cheated.” She felt cheated of being able to have life untangled in IVs and medication charts. She felt cheated of being able to maintain relationships or to ever have a “normal” life—you know, get married or have children. My car mumbled underneath me as I waited for four vanilla-flavor- ice-substance cones to be handed out the McDonalds drive-thru window. It was a school night, and I was driving some kids home after AWANA. They live a different life than I did as a young child—a life filled with instability, uninvolved adults and even racism. “Are you da mom?” a little voice came from the backseat. I tried to explain that no, I'm an adult but I don't have kids. To them, someone my age, who is able to drive a car and purchase some snacks, pretty much HAS to be a mom. It’s a...