Eleven weeks

IMG_9272.JPGThe view from the cafeteria looks out over Calgary’s wide valley basin. I watched the sun rise on one side this morning and now watch the sun begin to set behind the mountains. It’s the kind of view that takes you out past the horizon, if such a thing is possible. The sun rises and the sun sets and everything lies between those two points. Full of potential, like a pendulum at the height of its swing.

“They are twins,” the old woman said as we tried to peek under the blankets. “I’ll show you one and the other one will be just the same. It will be like you’ve seen both.”

She lifted the corner of the blanket and we saw a red-faced squalling baby with tiny balled fists and eyes pinched shut.

“How old?” We asked.

“Eleven weeks,” the younger of the women said. Were these her babies?

“They were triplets,” the old woman said. “And now they are twins.”

The old woman lowered the blanket. The young woman blinked slowly and turned to leave. Their long skirts shushed us as we watched their backs, their polka dot kerchiefs disappear through the heavy doors.

cenobyte
cenobyte is a writer, editor, blogger, and super genius from Saskatchewan, Canada.

i make squee noises when you tell me stuff.

Optimization WordPress Plugins & Solutions by W3 EDGE
%d bloggers like this: