You never know what experiences might be in someone’s past, but whatever it is doesn’t have to control their future.
I’ll take one of each. Please. And thank you. ❣👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇👇🥰
Dream Job? Writers Wanted! Your “voice” is unique. Use it or lose it. I am a Warrior Woman, a Write Fighter.
We lost her twice
Sheesh before the wreck
Sheesh after the wreck
My own brain
I call her Mama. My sister called her Momma. This young lady’s picture tugs at my heartstrings because I know her future.
July 15, 1984. Her “Baby Doll” suffered traumatic brain injury. July 17, 1995. Momma’s chick died in her sleep at home. Home. The cozy nest made for her comatose child. Home. Where both were housebound because this Momma Hen cared for her child around the clock with minimal assistance.
My Mama Hen is 75 now. She is thankful that her prayer was answered and her baby died at home. I can’t imagine how she felt when she woke and went to check my sister.
Mama Hen feels like she hasn’t accomplished much in her life. I tell her I will always honor her for her dedication and devotion to my sister’s health and welfare; Momma Hen. I will share more stories about having this beautiful young lady as our Mama/Momma.
How well did she care for my sister? Eleven years and two days without bedsores. Physical therapy. Cognitive therapy. My sister could hear. Momma Hen and her chick are the inspiration for Three Blinks. Momma Hen taught her injured chick to communicate. One blink for no, two blinks for yes.
So, one day Momma Hen notices her chick is blinking three times. It’s not random, it’s deliberate. She says, “Baby, are you trying to tell me something?” My sister blinks twice for yes. Momma Hen says, “Give Momma some time to think about what you’re saying.” Later that day it comes to her. “Baby, are you telling your Momma ‘I love you?'” My sister blinks twice. “Yes.” I say that’s superb accomplishment for a Momma Hen and her brain damaged Baby.