Wildflower Writes

Finished with my business at the hospital, I pushed open the massive door with the pretty green EXIT sign above it. I started heading down the three floors I had until I reached ground level. On the third step or so, my heel wobbled and I had to grab the handrail to steady myself. My imagination ran away with me. What if I had fallen? What if I had tumbled head over heels until I landed against the door of the third floor? How long would it take until someone came down that particular staircase? How long would I lay in a pool of my own blood, slowly dying? Or if I were able to make it out into the hallway, crawling on my hands and knees, dizzy from the concussion and dragging my broken leg behind me, would someone help me? With all the nurses and other hospital staff roaming the halls, would anyone stop? Or would they be too busy? Would they think I was being strange and call security? Would they stuff me in an elevator and send me to the ER? Or maybe just kick me down the...

You’re in the back seat, arguing with your sibling over who’s turn it is to play with the cheap kid’s meal toy. Suddenly, your body jerks forward as your loving parent slams on the brakes. Does this sound familiar to anyone? It’s one of those parent discipline techniques I’ve kept for my repertoire. Only, today, it didn’t work so well. I was running late to double little league games and my children were arguing: “Let me see it!” “It’s mine!” “Let me see it!” “It’s mine!” This continued for at least a minute before I found a grassy shoulder, checked for any traffic behind me and then did the brake slam. The car didn’t stop. It slowed and eventually stopped in the grass. It felt like it does when you hit a patch of snow or ice and you eventually slow when the tire meets pavement. Except it’s June. The kids didn’t even stop their arguing. I wondered if it was a one-time thing. Finally I asked who the toy belonged to and pronounced judgment that she could do what she wanted wit...

I finally finished my work at 5:30, an hour and a half later than I had planned to leave the office. I was on my own for dinner. My husband had brilliantly and lovingly offered to take the children to Chuck E. Cheese for the evening. As I slid into the driver’s seat of my minivan and turned the key in the ignition, I tried to decide what to do. Eating at home would require cooking, and possibly grocery shopping. Wendy’s and Popeye’s were nearby, but a little old hat. By now I was pulling out of the parking lot and heading north. By the time I reached the end of the T-intersection, I thought maybe a barbecue sandwich at Dairy Queen would be the ticket. I headed east toward downtown. By the time I came to the first stop sign, I realized I didn’t really want any ice cream. I headed north. Was there an Arby’s on this side of town? No. Too bad. I needed caffeine, and a Jamocha shake would be perfect. Taco Bell always offers cheap, tasty food, and I could get one of those blue Mountain Dews…...