A Miracle Named Lilly (My #WWBH Story)

Even though I didn’t get this done in time to be linked for last week’s Hop, I wanted to share my Blog Hop story

littlemusician

“Mamma?”  Lilly looked up from the guitar that she had been studiously practicing on  for the past hour as their Irish Retriever Puppy lie listening as if he were the audience.

“Yes, sweetheart?”  Betty inquired of her adopted daughter.

“I heard that the concierge, down stairs, is really a decoy for some spy organization.”  Lilly said, talking about Ole Mr.  Chaster who had been the doorman/concierge for the high-class apartment suites where they lived.

“Where ever did you hear such a thing, Lilly?”  Betty wanted to know.  “Mr. Chaster, a spy?!?   The very idea.  Why he’s no more spy than I am an astronaut in the space program.”

Lilly didn’t say any more and went back to practicing her guitar.  For a seven year old she was quite amazing  despite the fact that the guitar was nearly as big as she was.  Even more amazing was the fact that doctors hadn’t even believed that Lilly should be able to do things like play guitar or even be alive for that matter.

Several years ago, when she was barely more than a toddler,  Lilly’s mother had been in a terrible accident when her car lost control on a road that had had fresh tar recently layed. Lilly had been in the car with her.  Lilly’s mother (who was actually Betty’s daughter)  had been crushed, violently, against the steering wheel and had been killed almost instantly.

Lilly, herself, had been badly injured but had thankfully  survived, which in itself was no small miracle when you considered how bad the accident had been.

Shortly after, however, doctors suspected severe brain damage.  They had warned Betty, who had ended up adopting Lilly as her own, that Lilly might not survive and if she did she would likely be unable to do the things that kids normally did.  Things like walk, talk, write.  Even simple things like being able feed herself were questioned.  But Betty had refused to give up on Lilly.   She saw to it that Lilly got all the car and treatment and therapies she needed.  It had cost a lot of money  and had been a lot of hard work, for both, over the years.  But the pay of had been worth it.   Lilly was just like any other seven year old starting first grade (as her birthday was in December).  Only a tiniest of reminders, a small limp and a slight lisp, remained to indicate that there had ever been anything wrong.

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