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I haven't really been able to write about it. I hate giving details. She's asked me not to tell anyone. I couldn't help the friends I leaned on knowing, but I did say the tale over and over:

"She had a problem with her medication, and she'll be back when she's walking."

Problem my ass. Swallowing twenty at once does present something of a problem.

I haven't been able to write about it- not that, nor Charlie Brown. He would look so ugly in a poem. I know it. So does this. He doesn't deserve a poem- that immortalization. But she does. I haven't been able to write about it. Then I went to my first ever poetry society meeting, and sat there while they discussed trivial things and my pen disobeyed me. They asked me to read it again when I was done.

I feel cleaner now that it's on paper.

Of course, I'm not entirely wrapped up in it. :) When we all decided to do something silly and wrote about a sunflower seed, I wrote,

And no, I am not on drugs. :)

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