The Bath

It was the middle of the afternoon. My mother’s voice was smoky and quiet, calming. I was five and a half years old.

“Billy, you and I are going to take a bath together, and I’m going to show you my breast. You know I had a mastectomy, and they removed my breast, but I’m better now, and I don’t want you to be afraid.”

First Try

Vague, repetitious, harrowing flashbacks – And wondering if it’ll ever happen again. Why not? If it did before and then again, Even in the mean times and always in the ever after? Realizing and Rationalizing – Roller coasters on a roof top during an External Blizzard Internal Blizzard And a Read more