Dismissed For Lacking A Degree, I Let My Life Speak For Itself – The Archivist

the vibration of rotors and the tightness of straps across my chest.

Each foot lower was another inch closer to my son.

My boots still oozed mud when I reached Noah’s room.

He looked impossibly small in the hospital bed, curly hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. A monitor beeped steadily. His lips were no longer blue. Pink had returned to his continue reading …