Ester
My mother died when I was thirteen years old. Never mind that my father died the same day-he shot her twelve times and then turned the gun on himself. Ester, I loved her so much.
Years later I was in labor with my first child. I cried with heart pain not labor pain, wanting so much for my mother to be there. Hours passed and I was still in labor-couldn’t my body just let go and move on?
That’s when the new duty nurse came in and said, “Hi, I’m Ester. I’m here to help you have your baby.” Mom.
By Mary E. Edgerton
Bayou City Branch, TX
One word: “Wow.”
Packs a punch. This is a taut, skilfully written flash.
That was sad, but ended nice. Ruth Koster
Loved this story!
Life is so special and special moments so incredible. Your story brings tears to my eyes.