My Girl

I know I am seventy since My Girl is fifty, but I don't see my old self. The scenes coasting through my mind are of our first years together. 

I see my excited self, leaving the doctor's office, on the way to give birth to My Girl. hurrying to get home and tell my husband we're heading for the hospital, I waddle to my Corvair and wedge under the steering wheel. Unable to get past the tailgate of a waiting farmer's pickup beside me, I roll down my window and shout, "Can you pull up a bit, I'm having a baby." Roaring to life, his truck drives, without hesitation, directly into the ditch.

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