For now, I'd like to share a flash fiction piece I just finished. "She Heard Her Heart" is short, short, short. Perhaps it resonates with someone, somewhere. Thank you to all who read my blog and copyright applies, as usual. (©Veronica Randolph Batterson)
She Heard Her Heart
By Veronica Randolph Batterson
She heard her
heart. The steady, rhythmic beat
reached her ears and the sound reverberated around the room. Its resonance was clear but distant; a
channel tuned to a remote place reserved only for hearing, the airwaves charged
with static and hollow noise. Its
otherworldliness a guarantee her lifeline worked, yet a small fluctuation could
signal worry. She listened
closely.
Listening brought
memories. She recalled the feeling
when hearing the first heartbeats of her children. Relief, disbelief and wonderment fueled thoughts of an
uncertain but promising future.
The ultrasounds provided proof life grew inside her. The unfamiliar pulse meant joy and
promise.
She remembered her
grandmother’s life as it ended.
When the heart had grown old and tired, plagued with disease and slowing
until it could no longer function.
The last beat was made as she was transported to intensive care, the
final heart surgery a failure.
Would that be her fate?
Yet the heart was
even more. At times her own had
soared. And broke and cried. It had loved and anguished and
worried. Her heart had been full
and empty and angry. It had
mourned and been hopeful. This
pulsing promise of life, symbolic of what made life bearable and worth living;
what allowed a soul to survive and become strong, when all else appeared
hopeless.
The core of
existence continued to beat. She
marveled at how unassuming the sound was.
And welcome. The center of
life was steady and reliable; it was blue-collar, the engine and the manual
laborer. It was taken for
granted unless something went wrong.
Then our own mortality grabbed us by the collar, forcing a hard look at
what might be, what will be eventually.
She closed her
eyes and remembered. The instincts
that were ignored and not followed; the love that could have been but wasn’t;
the overlooked kindness and the compassion lacking to make a difference. Times she hadn’t followed her heart and
listened.
The steadiness
continued. It filled her mind with
things she must do and accomplish. She didn’t bargain, bribe or ask for more time as her
heartbeat filled her ears. She
just knew how it needed to be. And she had to listen.
©Veronica Randolph Batterson
