September 23, 2003

Coming home

Coming home tonight was like something out of a sensitive-Hitchcockian film.

The place was like a darkened cave--at 11:30 p.m. No light. No one.

Where was everyone? I looked upstairs, in the bedrooms. In and out. Opening and closing doors. Talking to Sampson, my cat, in hushed, frantic tones.

Now fearful that something was truly wrong (but keeping it under control because I called the police one time when my family was visiting neighbors--never mind...).

"Grandma," I called. "Have you seen my family?" It sounded weird to my ears.

"No," she answered.

After exchanging pleasantries, we hung up.

Then I went to my mom's room. A health book and thermometer instructions lay sprawled on her bed. Something was wrong.

Then my sister called at that moment--like a movie--I prayed.

I picked up the phone. "Mom's in the Emergency Room. She has something wrong with her stomach. But--she's okay for now."

Thank God for these miracles. What a week.

Posted by Amanda Cochran at September 23, 2003 12:20 AM
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