Today’s tidbit comes from the first chapter of My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds.
THE BOMB DROPS
“Dear Abbie, I’m writing to ask for your hand in marriage,” the letter stated.
“Oh, no,” I said, as the index finger of my right hand scanned the Braille words on the page.
It was a Saturday evening in January 2005. This was all a bad dream, I thought, as I sat in the living room of my apartment. Any minute, my alarm clock would ring. I would wake up, and everything would be as it was before. Instead, the talking clock in the bedroom announced that it was 8:30.
I read the rest of the letter that explained how we could live together and tossed it into the wastebasket in shock. With the help of my closed–circuit television magnification system, I finished reading the mail and perused the evening paper, all the while thinking about the letter.
If you like what you read so far and want to read more, click here.
Abbie Johnson Taylor
We Shall Overcome
How to Build a Better Mousetrap: Recollections and Reflections of a Family Caregiver
That’s Life: New and Selected Poems
My Ideal Partner: How I Met, Married, and Cared for the Man I Loved Despite Debilitating Odds
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