Emergency Contact

“Mom, what do I write here?” I pointed to the line on the emergency contact form, blinking back tears I didn’t want her to see.

She glanced at the rectangular card. “Retired,” she said impatiently. I wrote the word in tiny, smushed together letters.

I felt a strange heat in my cheeks as I continued filling out the form, the rest of the information second nature by then. I wrote Supervisor in the space asking for my mom’s occupation, directly under my dad’s new title. Wrote the phone number for my cousin’s flower shop on Castle Street.

– See more at: http://www.runningnekkid.com/content/emergency_contact#sthash.dOC3i3TX.dpuf

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