Friday, October 31, 2014
Somebody softly nudged her small body. "Wake up, Sharon. Welcome to the world." She tried to lift the blanket from her brain, but it was too heavy for her little mind fingers to move.
Somebody stroked her face. "Wake up, Sharon. It's time to change your diaper." She fought to see through the fog in her mind, but the clouds lingered, filtering the blinding rays of the sun.
Somebody gently tapped her shoulder. "Wake up, Sharon. It's the first day of kindergarten." She struggled to fit the pieces of her brain into the right order, but she didn't know where they all should go.
Somebody shook her. "Wake up, Sharon. Your driver's test is today." She shoved all the parts of her brain that she didn't understand into an unknown spot and ignored them.
Somebody shoved her. "Wake up, Sharon. You're late for work." She blinked and ignored the emptiness in her mind.
Somebody tugged her hair. "Wake up, Sharon. It's your wedding day." There was no room for quiet amidst the jumble of thoughts.
Somebody rubbed her arm. "Wake up, Sharon. You've done it. Here's your new baby." Her mind refused to grasp what her arms held so tenderly.
Somebody called her name. "Wake up, Sharon. You're last child is leaving the house." She didn't move, her mind numb from shock and fear.
Somebody poked her arm. "Wake up, Sharon. It's time to take some blood." She replayed endless images in her brain that seemed so real.
Nobody bothered her. She finally slept.