Y'all Look Like Trees

"Where are the boys?" I asked.

"At home with Mom."

"Is that a new shampoo, Danny? It smells different."

"Same as always."

"Maybe you just smell clean."

"Could be."

"Turn on the lights. It's dark."

"The doctor said to leave them off."

"Right."

"You've been through a lot."

Dr. Jones entered. His shoes were heavy. He dragged one.

"How are we today, Mrs. Thompson?"

"You tell me."

"You're making progress!"

"Wonderful. When can I go home?"

"We're still a few days off. You have some healing to do. The airbag may have saved your life, but it banged you up pretty good."

The next few days were hell. There's nothing worse than waiting around, doing nothing.

Clomp. Skrrt. Clomp. Skrrt. Clomp. Dr. Jones was back.

"Is it time?" I asked.

"It's time," he said. "Your husband and boys are here."

I already knew Danny was here. I could smell his shampoo.

"I'm going to unwind the bandages. Let me know if you start to see anything."

He pulled.

"I'm seeing some light... Y'all look like trees..."

He pulled more.

First, things were fuzzy. The light was brilliant. But I could see.

"Danny! Boys! I thought I'd never see you again."