Kenny
2010

I look in at the class full of eleven-and-twelve-year-olds. All the girls have long, pretty hair, and all the boys are staring at them. All except one- Ava. My sister Ava has been in and out of the hospital her whole life.

She sits at her desk with a bandana wrapped around her head, she has puffy red eyes with dark bags underneath, she has scars all over, and she is much paler than everyone else.

The thing that really scares me though is the amount of blood on the sleeve of her white t-shirt.
Before her teacher even knows I’m there I run to Ava’s side.
She’s crying.
“It’s back!” She wails.


Ava
2010

The only few things I can really remember from my childhood are as follows; one, I was sick, a lot, all the time. Two, I was four when I first got to play outside. Three, there was no fun having because everyone was too worried something would go wrong. And four, It was really hard to breathe.
Writing a paper for class about when you were little might seem easy enough- maybe for Kenny. But no one here ever had a childhood. They were all too busy watching over me.

“Thanks Kenny.” I tell him, after he rescued me from school.
“Look, I won’t tell mom, if you do.”
I nod.

…

“Mom?”I ask into thin air.
No answer.
Upstairs, my mother is sleeping.
I go back down into the living room and the doorbell rings.
“Coming!”I shout, and begin walking to the door...

…

Isabella
1998

   My first memory of my daughter, Ava is not normal.
   You see, Ava is my first daughter. I know, my first memory should have been of her crying in my arms after being born. However, it’s not. I did not get to hold her until four months after she was born, and even then, it was with gloves and facemask. She had tubes and IV’s covering her body, and she couldn’t breathe on her own.

   “She looks just like you.”
   I just smile.
   Craig takes my hand.


…
1999

   Life is unfair. Incredibly unfair. The fact that my daughter cannot have a birthday party with a cake and candles and presents and family, the fact that she can’t go run and play outside with her older brothers, the fact that she can’t dance around the living room in a pretty pink dress.
   “Her lungs aren’t fully functioning properly, we haven’t discovered why, we are looking into it.” A doctor tells Joe and I.

“We have her in the pediatric ward, she’s awake you know. I could take you to see her.” A nurse grins at us.
   “Thanks” I mumble, before following her up from the doctor’s office into the elevator that will take us to the fourth floor.
   “Dr. Bryn can be a bit stiff.” The nurse explains.
   “Ava, your mommy and daddy are here!”
   Ava sits up in her crib.

   I hate seeing this. Ava has tubes in her nose and an oxygen mask on, IV’s all over her arms and chest, monitors all around her monitoring her heart, and brain, and everything else.
…

…