My iron string warned me of death and oh how I regret not listening. I should have insisted my best friend to listen to me when I asked her..
“Are you certain that your in-laws will take good care of her? Can you really trust them?”
Her reply was… “She raised two sons of her own.”
Heart racing, hands sweating, I should have canceled my return flight home from Dayton, Ohio in the sad summer of ’03 and maybe my best friend’s adorable five year old girl would live to ride her pink bike down the street one more time..If only I’d listen to my iron string…If only I insisted upon not to let Vickie’s ex-husband’s mother to watch Megan on that first Monday of June…If only I used different words and maybe with a stern voice.
I boarded the plane home and for the next three hours of my flight home, Megan’s image on her bicycle of long fancy, fabulous, full blond hair blowing freely in the wind, eyes concentrating on the street, wearing her favorite white shorts, with the word Princess written in shine silver across the front of her pink shirt, filled my thoughts..It was the last I will ever see of her!
When the plane landed and phone service was authorized by the flight crew, my cell phone lit up like a blinking Christmas tree. Hands shaking, eyes crying, head down, I knew the messages. Megan was gone…The cause of death. The foolish ex-mother-in-law allowed Megan to ride on the tractor for fun with huge sharp spinning blades attached to the back of the machine….Little Megan slipped from her seat and the door was ajar…
The coffin was light pink Megan’s favorite color…The coffin remained closed.
From that day to the present, I ALWAYS listen to the iron string!
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