Wednesday, April 23, 2008


…. In her exasperation my mom forgets how to be gentle; her hand tightens as she pries each lid apart with her fingers. Liquid fire surrounds my eye. What twenty-three year old needs an adult to place allergy eye drops in her eye? … I wish I could forfeit the humiliation and panic created by this situation. Individual eyelashes are molded together, I cannot see.

Ignoring an eye sight malfunction because I would rather be in control is foolish. Through blurred tears I glimpse my mom snickering at me, I’m relieved… The liquid fire has cooled. Ashley you should have used Allergy Drops two months ago instead of waiting, her voice tilts on confusion. A squashy pillow sets boundaries between us; I groan and lean against it.

Why let time rush beyond me never adhering to the liquid fire God desires to cover my vision with? Fear, pride, insecurities entangle themselves together but I ignore their probe. You’re silly, both God and my mom chorus. The last drop caresses me. Letting go of my control I agree with them.