Please

How are you doing? She asked. So I proceeded to gripe and whine, not thinking that she had called me.

She doesn’t just call to chat. Even as teenagers, I was the one who could talk on the phone for hours. She does better with eye contact, a shoulder bump….just being there. And yet, she called me.

She told me, after I was done, the words that females dread. We all do. Our hearts stop when we hear the phrase I found a lump.

I babbled. Told her about Planned Parenthood which apparently sucks where she’s at. Told her to check into this and that and all the while my heart had only one prayer.

Please.

Please, God. 

At one point I told her that I didn’t know if I was saying the right things. She said something profoundly true… even just breathing on the other end of the phone would have been the right thing.

She didn’t need my words. She needed my love.

She needed me.

So I will continue calling and texting and pretending to be General Shelton. And I will continue my prayer, my plea.

Please.

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