Haunting Silence

“If Sam took a hearing test today, she’d fail it in the left ear, probably both.” The doctor points to diagrams, talks about adenoids and semi-clear liquid the color and consistency of honey.

Since January, I’ve watched Samantha’s world get smaller. She laboriously mastered “DaDa” and nothing more.

The doctor and my wife talk about tubes and advances in the technology of tubes.

I’m haunted by an image I haven’t seen yet—Sam unconscious, on a white hospital sheet awaiting surgery. I see this when I check on her.

In her crib, the sheets are pink, stuffed animals all around.From Guest Contributor Shane Borrowman

Stuffing Made Of Memories

They sit on your bed, on a shelf, or maybe tucked away in a confined box collecting a musty smell. Once you cared for them and kept them neatly stacked up...but now they are forgotten and dusty all alone. They are full of memories of the smiles from old relatives who placed them in your arm. Or maybe the memory of wishing on their heart before their stuffing was sealed up, hoping it’d work like a charm. Think back to the stuffed animals that you held so closely as a child. Where are they now? What do they mean? From Guest Contributor Madison Rutkowski

Madison is a student of literature and the sciences at Pikes Peak Community College.