Rebirth

Agnes rubbed at her swollen left wrist and closed her eyes, as if to shutter out the throbbing.

"What's wrong, Grandma?" A wide-eyed boy, no more than seven, stood before her, his tiny hands resting on the worn blue arm of the chair in which his grandmother sat.

"Fetch me my heating pad, David. I got a pain birthing in my wrist."

David ran to his grandmother's bedroom and retrieved the pad. This he plugged in, and arranged over his grandmother's wrist.

"Not too hot, child."

David nodded and pushed the yellow button--warm--which made a satisfactory click in response.

"Oh, that's better, David," Agnes said, after a few moments had passed. "You're a good boy."

The words filled David with sudden warmth and pride. He smiled.

Agnes opened her eyes and patted her lap. "Come on up, David," she said. "I got me some scarecrow legs for sure, but you don't weigh but a minute." She laughed. "Why I bet that book we're reading weighs more'n you."

He climbed into her lap and stroked her cheek with feathery fingers. "Grandma?"

"Hmmm?"

"You reckon that heating pad will help me?"

Agnes frowned. "You got you a hurt somewhere?"

David blinked and pointed to his chest.

"Oh, David," Agnes said. "There's two types of pain. There's a pain of the body, like this here wrist. Then there's a deeper pain: a pain of the heart. Ain't no pills nor no heating pad gonna' take away that pain."

"We both have a pain of the heart."




Read more