Two blue lines.
My heart was racing as I checked the test again.
Two. Blue. Lines.
One little head, poking out of the white blanket.
Six letters, S-H-E-L-L-Y. On the gift box label, left on my doorstep,
A gift for the baby, read my neighbor’s scrawly handwriting.
Two syllables, Mama, was Shelly’s first word.
Fifteen books, I bragged to the moms around me.
Fifteen books and counting, on Shelly’s bookshelf.
I told them Shelly was made for great things.
Three months, the oncologist told us.
Three more months to the end of my daughter’s short life.
Three more months till the evil growing in her head would take over our lives, and end it.
Four candles on the cake. My daughter blew them out, ignoring the dull pain in her head.
10:18 PM, time of death.
2014-2018. Here lies Shelly.
This poem was featured on Kentucky Arts Council’s Facebook page to celebrate Kentucky Writer’s Day. Check it out!