“Get her in the car!” I screamed

A parent was screaming through a crack in their window.

Ready to continue the fiction adventure into the original novel, “Senseless”?

It’s the end of a week, and I truly want to thank the Word Nerds who make this work possible, so today’s part of the chapter will be for supportive readers only. (I have to make sure they feel properly rewarded for their kindness, you know?)

BUT, part of what Word Nerds do here is make endless scholarships possible- a promise from me to them, and me to you.

So if you don’t want to miss a piece of this story and you want to know what happened when you drop in on Monday, reach out and I can add your name to the list that becomes a Word Nerd for free. It’s a special gift from us to you!

These were yesterday’s words… or you can go back to the beginning here.

Thank you for being willing to go off on a new and unexpected journey and for gifting me this recovery time!

And hopefully you enjoy the special glimpse at a book I otherwise never would have shared?

THANK YOU

FOUR 1/2

“Who’s that?” Madlena said from across the cul-de-sac.

She was trying to encourage what would be our last student to leave campus to actually leave, though there seemed to be a scuffle of sorts between father and child.

Ainslee had an Intellectual Disability, among other things, and loved to give hugs. She used to hug Sergeant Doughnut every morning at 9:15 on the way to the cafeteria for breakfast, and the topic would frequently come up in conferences later that day.

“How do we teach her appropriate interactions with adults?” her mother once said in an IEP meeting, “She can’t keep hugging strangers at the grocery story until she’s thirty. I can’t keep preventing her from these inclinations.”

Her mother had the vocabulary but not the meaning. Her mother wasn’t there that morning. Maybe she was already dead.

“Ainslee, get in the car please,” her father was saying, while moving his body in and around and away from her attempts at affection; talking to a student with profound hearing loss as if that’s a good idea.

So few of the families knew sign, and I wanted to dive in and encourage the situation, but I was distracted by the look on Madlena’s face.

“Who is that?” she said again, to no one in particular but everyone at once.

The person was approaching from across the line of cars and moving at an alarming rate. They were definitely not one of ours, definitely not someone I knew. But then… I knew.