It was true that she didn’t share many close moments with her older sister. All that Maggie ever did was tend to her three young children, while she, Lara, did so many remarkable things. She travelled, made new friends, and had worked in half a dozen interesting jobs. What could Maggie say that would be fascinating or exciting to her?
And yet, Maggie had got the first plane to Geneva when she heard the news of Lara’s accident. She left her children with her mother-in-law and took the trip without hesitation. Lara couldn’t take that away from her.
But Maggie came and Maggie went, and Lara was still in the same bed, in the same room. Sensations came back to her little by little. First she could move her toes, then she moved her feet. The doctors were pleased. She was making progress.
“Will I ever be able to ski again?” she asked the young doctor who came to examine her one afternoon. He looked at her and raised his eyebrows in surprise.
“Ski?” he said. “Let’s hope you can walk again.”
Click here to read Living the Moment, on the Poetry Library Southbank Centre website
http://www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/magazine/record.asp?id=22696
