Wish You Were Here by Sam Watermeier
By morning, there were no pauses left to count. The winter chill crept into the room as Dad lay lifeless.
By morning, there were no pauses left to count. The winter chill crept into the room as Dad lay lifeless.
His quiet Southern lilt didn’t match what he was saying. There should have been magnolia petals falling out of his mouth or some exhaustive yarn about his mothe...
It is not what I expect. Lined up side by side are chairs with patients already hooked up to IVs, and one empty chair for Katie, a giant vacuum of space waiting...
Surgery done, the ride slammed to a stop. The cancer was removed and I was pronounced cured.
The clerk was stringy and gray. “I recommend the Jesus diet,” she offered, as we explained our goals which were, mainly, for him to outlive cancer. “You eat onl...