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Closet Shots by Tammy Rider March 14, 2007 The shots weren't painful. Every Saturday morning the nurse would call my name and I'd hold out my arm and watch the needle touch my skin, linger for a moment, then ooze through like a pin penetrating a plum. It was too fascinating to hurt. On Sunday, after church, Peterandjon would come over to my house, they were my best friends and I could never separate one from the other, and Peterandjon and I would go play in the closet while our mothers sat in the living room discussing matters of great importance and telling puns. One time, as I held the needle from my toy doctor's kit just ready to jab Jon with (or was it Peter?), we heard my Mom outside the closet door. "What are you kids doing in there?" she asked. Aiming the needle, with perfect precision, I answered, "Just playing doctor, Mom." The needle never reached an arm and we were never allowed in the closet again. About the author: I'm a Presbyterian minister originally from Minneapolis, MN and currently living in Rochester, MN. I've served churches in Kansas and in Minnesota, and have two grown daughters and one amazing and beautiful granddaughter. I'm also the oldest of 59 children (my mom has been a foster parent for nearly 40 years and I'm her first and only biological offspring!). I've written occasionally for Guideposts magazine and their daily devotional book. | | | |
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