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  • Writer's pictureDorell Green

Slave Hands

Since Haylee’s diagnosis I find myself taking in every moment with her. Making her laugh or smile is my goal everyday. She gets annoyed with me because I’m always watching everything she does, trying to take in every moment. This morning we’re watching tv, I’m watching her eat her mini pancakes like a kid and smiling at her enjoying the food. A few weeks ago she had a feeding tube, couldn’t talk and swallowing was torture for her. She’s sees me looking at her and gives me her “stop dad, I’m ok” look. I start reminiscing about when we were living in Greeley, she was probably eleven. Haylee and I were picking weeds in the front yard. I’m watching her pick weeds and smiling at how hard my baby was working.

She stops and stares off in the distance, intensely focused on something. I asked her what she was thinking. Haylee says “dad I’m glad we’re not slaves anymore.” I’m impressed that at her age she would have such poignant and deep thoughts. She slowly raises her hands as if she’s about to start praying. I’m almost in tears witnessing such devotion. She’s glaring at her hands, I’m thinking my baby girl is going to be a social activist and change the world! She than says, while still staring at her hands “yeah I’m glad we’re not slaves, they wouldn’t have let us wear gloves while picking cotton.” What the.....all I could say was nope they wouldn’t have, if the bastards just would have let us wear gloves who knows where we would be today lol. She nods her head in agreement and goes back to picking weeds...satisfied with the knowledge she had dropped on her dad, that’s my heart ❤️ 🙂.

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