There's No Cure for Gretchen Lowe: A Mother's Day Card From Alice
"My daughter is a person. She’s not a chinning bar for me to build my character with. She doesn’t have cerebral palsy in order to teach me a lesson."
There's No Cure for Gretchen Lowe: A Mother's Day Card From Alice
#CripLit #MothersDay
“My daughter is a person. She’s not a chinning bar for me to build my character with. She doesn’t have cerebral palsy in order to teach me a lesson.”
Alice’s schoolteacher handwriting greeted Gretchen in the stack of mail that evening. Oh Alice, Gretchen snorted pleasurably. I couldn’t have picked a better card myself.
A six-pack of baby angels were attempting to fly carrying a colossal banner…
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I had a daughter who struggled. Bullies tore at her, found her vulnerable spots and turned her approach to life into an I’ll-get-you-before-you-get-me, snarling, raging human.
That was a ten-year detour. A decade. Half a score.
I am a woman who values her privacy, whose mama instincts compel me to protect my kid with the exact same ferocity that the bullies used against her. As I type this,…
Honestly, the last chapter did so poorly that I didn’t think anyone cared. So I put him on the back burner for me to come back to when I have the motivation for him. I do have more planned and I REALLY appreciate hearing that someone else cares about his story.
Danny going around cleaning up headstones and placks in cemeteries and graveyards. Graveyards and cemetery’s are considered the resting places for the dead, so when he’s there he just super relaxed and safe feeling.
That’s how he meets superheroes/vigilantes/antiheroes/villains/civilians/side characters from different cities.
He just gives them advice on mourning and basically lends them an ear or shoulder for a few days before he goes to the next cemetery.
Eventually Danny runs into one of the Bat fam in a Gotham cemetery and they ask him what he’s doing, he’s completely distracted in a really calm state from the dead resting place vibes and says something cryptic about even empty graves deserving care while cleaning up a grave.
simeon, who tells himself that your soul will go to heaven. he tells himself that when your time comes, he will be able to greet you in the celestial realm, that he will smile at your halo and caress your white wings.
simeon, who hates the truth.
simeon, who knows that from your pacts on your skin - symbols of not even indulgence, flat out ownership of the seven sins - that you will be cast down to the bowels of hell. he knows that your soul will end up in one of the circles, where you will be punished for eternity, while he is supposed to turn a blind eye.
simeon, who can’t help but fantasize, but wish, but pray, that he could protect you in heaven. he dreams about hiding you in a forgotten corner of the celestial realm. he dreams about laying next to you in the plains, bodies concealed by the always blooming flowers.
simeon, who dreams about holding you.
simeon, who wishes he could kiss you.
simeon, who prays that he could be free to love you.
without the judgmental eyes of Him along his back.