The teenager in the hospital bed was skinny and limp. She never made a sound; her eyes stayed closed; she never moved. Her boyfriend visited her faithfully, looking forward to the day when she would wake up from the coma. She had plunged into darkness when her four-wheeler crashed and overturned.
Her mother never left her side, and her step-father guiltily showed up on weekends. He was the one who had allowed her to ride without a helmet. Her father constantly said to anyone who would listen: "I never let her ride without a helmet. If I had been there, this never would have happened."
If a doctor or nurse had told them that, chances are, she would never wake up, they didn't remember that. They all fantasized about the moment she opened her eyes, saw them standing there, and spoke her first words.
"Daddy!"
Or maybe she would whisper, "I could hear you, Mom, every day."
After exactly 16 weeks, she did wake up. And her first words were: "My butt hurts."
Dog-pile. Definition: Children's game. A bunch of kids pile on top of each other. Laughter is part of the game. Sometimes a few kids get hurt or scared, and they cry. Why do kids pile on each other in this silly squished painful chaos? I don't know why, but I do know that stories can be the same way.
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