Adding Ten Years in One Moment by Robin J. Hineline (top 100 novels of all time txt) 📕

She was the light of my life. She was the center of my world. She was all I had. She was three and a half years old that summer. Her father, my husband, had passed away suddenly on her second birthday in the spring. Her half brother lived with us just half the time while the other half he spent with his father. We had each other and that was it, for nearly a year and a half now.
It took us two years and a miscarriage to have her. Her father and I had planned on having a child despite the fact that he had two grown children from a previous marriage and I had a son, eight, from a past marriage. She was born early insisting on arriving before her time. She was small, but so lively and alert. We brought her home on Easter Sunday morning to a house full of people. Quickly she became everyone’s little princess with her bright blue eyes, bouncy personality, and abundant energy.
If there was ever a perfect child she would be the one. She slept through the night immediately, did not cry, learned quickly, and was always content whether she was the center of attention or by herself. Even at this young age she could pick something up, look it over carefully turning it in her hands, and return it back in the exact spot in the exact position she had found it in. I watched her unseen go through this investigation process one day with a ceramic cat nestled in a display. It was incredible that she could pull this off at such a young age and I knew that she must have been inspecting all the decorations through out the house.
To say that we were close even then, was pretty much an under statement. Her father was a workaholic and was gone seven days a week. When he was home we spent our time as three. I stayed home with her having given up working outside of the home two and a half years before she was born. I took her every where with me whether it was to the store or to an activity I was in charge of as a volunteer. She was always well behaved, never threw a tantrum, and quickly developed good manners.
When her father died it was after a small family birthday party for her in the afternoon. It was a traumatic event for me, for her, and for her half brother. My focus became keeping life as close to normal as possible with the departure of my husband, their father. We continued to do the same things, go the same places, and see the same people. She was very young and I knew that with time the loss of her father and what happened that day would be forgotten. We continued through life just as we had for two years except he never came home from work on that occasional day, usually a holiday or Sunday.
We lived on a lot with a good size yard and I had purchased a trampoline for her half brother the year before. Since I was uncomfortable with a trampoline for a three year old I wanted something for her to play with in the back yard, keep her attention off the trampoline. I purchased a swing set complete with a glider, a see saw type swing, a sliding board and a set of climbing bars up over the center of the set in addition to the swings. I knew the monkey bars the set had to climb on and swing on were for the future when she was older and bigger, but she could handle the rest of the swing set. I had my nephew cement it into the ground so it would be sturdy enough for an active child. She played on it often, frequently asking to go outside.
During this particular summer, life had settled down into a normal stress free routine. I was starting college full time in the fall and wanted the summer to relax and enjoy time off with my daughter. Going to college so late in life was intimidating and thinking of going to classes daily and studying all the time was daunting not to mention being around students in their late teens. It had been twenty years since I had been in school and I was not sure I could handle it without a lot of extra help. The financial opportunity fell into my lap and there was no hesitation despite my age in grabbing that opportunity and hanging on tightly. By the summer everything was set including which university I would be going to, what major I would focus on, all the financial aid was in place, and what my schedule would be like. All that was left to make arrangements for was a baby sitter for my fabulous daughter. We had never been apart and trusting my life, as she had become, to some one else every day was something I was not looking forward to by any means. I wanted this summer for us; for my daughter and I to relax and enjoy before we were parted for the first time.
It was a beautiful day, sunny and bright with very few clouds in the sky. The temperature was manageable, not extremely hot or humid. I had just spent the day before mowing grass, trimming the yard, pulling weeds out of the flowerbeds and snapping off the dead flowers from the bushy plants. I decided to spend the day cleaning the inside of the house so the work would be done and we could relax the rest of the week, maybe even take a trip some where.
When she came to me and asked if she could go outside to play, I immediately told her to go ahead. The back of the house featured huge windows in the dining area and kitchen so I could easily see her to be sure everything was alright. The back of the house was high since there was a finished basement at ground level. There was a side door that led to the outside from the kitchen, but it was broken and therefore could not be opened. We had to enter and exit the house strictly through the front door.
Happily she hurried out the front door and around the side of the house to the swing set where she liked to swing with her pet stuffed penguin.
As I cleaned the house I would check on her through the window to be sure everything was alright. She was always in sight and playing with her penguin. I have to admit that after a time I had gotten into the cleaning I was trying to get done and I had not checked on her for some time. Eventually I did go to the kitchen to see what she was doing. My heart immediately jumped nearly out of my chest, beating wildly and nearly choking me.
She was lying on the ground under the highest part of the swing set, the climbing section, featured up and across the center of the set. Her position was awkward, a leg was bent up under, behind her and her arm was turned strangely and over her head. My instant thought was that she had tried to climb the bars and had fallen off. She was so independent, always trying things for herself.
In a split second I turned and ran through the house, out the front door, across the porch, and down the side yard to the swing set. All kinds of thoughts were flashing through my mind. She was hurt. How serious was it? What did she break? Was she alive? What would I do? I was never as scared as I was at that moment.
I had some training in first aid and knew that I should not touch her or move her until I had accessed the situation carefully in case something was broken. I called her name, but she did not move or even flinch. She was perfectly still, unresponsive. I called her name again. Nothing.
My heart was beating hard. I was breathing heavily when I reached her side. She still had not moved. Her eyes were closed. I called her name over and over as I knelt down beside her.
A small black ant was crawling across her cheek, but she did not flinch or move. I tried to swipe the ant off her cheek as I continued to softly call her name. I knew my voice was getting high with the frantic state I was in. I was afraid to touch her for fear of hurting her more. I did not know what to do. She was not responding at all. The ant should have been tickling her face yet there was absolutely no movement of any kind.
Finally I decided I was going to have to touch her, get her to come around. I needed her to wake up and tell me where she was hurt. I was visibly shaking as I reached to touch her. I was so scared. I decided to shake the arm that she had lying straight to get her to awaken. I gently touched her straight arm saying her name, asking her to wake up. Her arm was cool.
The persistent ant reached her forehead and I did not want it in her hair. She had very long, very thick hair and I did not want an ant in it. I did not think about what was on the ground where she was laying and already in her hair. I picked the ant up from her face and flung it aside thoughtlessly. She still did not move, not from the tickle of the ant and not from the force of my fingers as I picked the ant up.
Again I touched her arm to gently shake her saying her name. I was getting desperate, not sure what to do. Her position was so awkward; she was unresponsive yet breathing normally.
I kept saying, “Michelle, wake up,” while shaking her a little.
I sat back on my heels trying to decide how to proceed. I was fighting to keep from crying. I knew that shedding tears would not help, not me and certainly not her.
I took a deep breath and leaned forward again to try to shake her awake without hurting her any more than she already was. To my immense relief her eyes