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Hannah Howard Jessica Jacobs RHET 1311 September 12, 2013

Never Stop Growing The smell of fluoride, power tools buzzing as they scrape across bone, the lovely things that come with the orthodontists office. My cousin, Sykes, and I heard the faint sound of a dial tone in the background. We became silent in curiosity. Mrs. Martin is Marla coming; both Sykes and Hannah have been done for an hour? Yes mam, whispered the lady behind the check in desk. The phone clicked as it is sat back down on the receiver. At the age of ten, video games were never really my thing, but for Sykes, you could say he was a master. Ive got you now, Sykes would scream as he passed my Mario Cart. What felt like a year of us sitting in the waiting room playing video games passed and I had to force my nails out of my mouth when my Nana finally arrived. Her face was red with anger and she looked like if she held her nose fire would shoot out of her ears. The look of confusion swept over my face as I remembered; Momma was supposed to pick us up. Where was she? We were herded to the car and strapped in as my grandma took the car from zero to sixty in .001 seconds.

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Angi, you know Marla; she wouldnt forget her own daughter. Something is wrong, Nana explained over the phone. My heart began to sink. Nana immediately called the highway department. Yes has there been a wreck anywhere recently, yes and where was it, what vehicle was involved, oh my God, NO. My face sunk into Sykess lap as we made a U-turn and headed for the hospital. I didnt look up until we pulled into the parking lot. There was a puddle on Sykess jeans. With red faces and stuffy noses we walked with hesitation to the sliding doors of the emergency room. The waiting room was bare, and I couldnt help but wonder what was going on. Where was my mom, my rock, the one person I love more than anything? The ambulance had not arrived yet. As the minutes passed more and more people started to show up, friends and family but still no mom. After several hours of sitting and watching the clock tick tick tick, we heard the sound of the ambulance getting progressively louder until it stopped. We all stampeded through the door to find a stretcher with a large white sheet draped over it. I was too terrified to even guess what was under it. Was it even my mom anymore? Why couldnt anyone explain what was going on to me?

It was about six months before I finally got to meet my new mommy. That waiting room and I got very familiar. I could trace the maroon pattern on the chairs with my eyes closed, and

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knew where every crack in that discolored white/off-white tile floor was. Because I was under age they wouldnt let me into her room. Im sure you are responsible and know the rules little girl but it is policy, those stupid nurses would always tell me. But finally the day came, my eleventh birthday, May 23rd, the day I got to go behind the code locked door. Being beside my daddy made me feel safe, but just the thought of venturing into uncharted, for me at least, territory terrified me. The smell of all the fluids being pumped into peoples helpless bodies made me feel sick as I forced my feet toward her room. The sight of the woman laying cold on the hospital bed was indescribable. That was not my mom. She looked as if she was a tree that had just been struck by lightning, laying in pieces, lifeless. Many doctors would pull my dad and me aside and try to explain to us that, because mom had lost 75% of the left side of her brain, she would never be anything more than that living corps. I just wouldnt have it. I saw that spark in her eye every time I would walk in the room; the same spark that I would see after school when she would meet me by the bus, right before she would ask how my day was. As several months passed it was as if that burnt tree had one more root that wouldnt let go. She began to grow back. She started going to rehab and was eventually transported to Timber Ridge. This place was like hell on earth for my mom. Being away from the ones she loved was torture, but the doctors continuously crammed into our brains that it was what was best for her. My mom was so depressed, and it broke our hearts when we would have to take her back after our weekend visitation. It didnt take dad many sobbing trips back and forth to realize that what the doctors had said was a load of crap. He drove that long snake like road, picked up my mom,

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and never drove back. Seeing the spark in my mothers eyes as we pulled into the driveway was like seeing the beautiful flowers begin to bloom on her scared branches. Many years have passed now and my mom is still not that strong, tall, bright green tree like she used to be, but she is still growing every day. She will randomly pick up on words, my favorite being I love you, she is starting to walk better, and she is doing more things on her own. I have learned so much from this experience and am a much more independent person, but if there has ever been anything that my mom has taught me it has been to never give up, never stop fighting. Never stop growing.