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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