She checks in
with me,
switching into
Mom Mode
as she asks me
questions
about the hospital.
I tell her how Abby
has just announced
that she's engaged
and Dr. Brimmond
has been less,
"It's the end of the world,"
lately,
how my inner elbow
still aches from
all the times
Abby tried
but failed to
stick me with
an IV.
Curse my shy little
veins.

I whine to her
about how I had
to waddle in
from the parking lot
because my muscles
scream
every time
I breathe
or shoulder my backpack
or turn the wheel
of my 2003
Honda Accord
more than .00002
degrees.

She shows me pictures
of her new grand baby
and her daughter's
Homecoming dress
and the football game
last Friday
that was the first
we'd won since
the beginning of
my Junior year.
Which was last year.
It's mid-September now.

All things that
I missed
because I was
in the hospital.

My omnipresent guilt
worms its way deeper
into me.