I screamed, seeing the dim moonlight glint off a knife in his hands, and he laughed at my terror. I threw my heavy knapsack at him, driving him back so that he fell over the log, and took off at a run. The hard rocks on the forest trail dug through my flimsy sneakers, making it hard to keep my footing, but I dare not stop running. Twigs and branches lashed out at me, tearing the skin off my hands and face and tangling in my long hair. Sticky burrs wrapped themselves in the wool of my sweater, waiting for me to carry them to a new home. I could hear loud crackling sounds behind me, and knew that if I paused for a second he’d be on me. My lungs burned as I drew deep ragged breathes, running for dear life. I tripped suddenly, face scrapping against rough concrete and the skin shearing from my palms. I cried out, then realized that I’d come upon the sidewalk at the edge of town. With new hope I pushed up and took off again. I heard nothing behind me and took my chance, running into a. She stood at the front of the room and everyone cheered. She was the one that had done this, she was the one that these people were here in honor of, she saw the happiness and appreciation, and camaraderie in the eyes of the ones she had worked so hard with. She took the podium and began to speak. She was 47 years old. She cheered madly. So happy to see her daughter there, so proud of her, the honors that she had earned, the recognition and the degree she had worked for, her little girl was a grown woman and she was so happy. The party, her daughter interacting, so assured, nothing like the little girl of old, yet still with that joy for life and beautiful smile. She was 56 years old. She played with the wonderful wriggling ball of joy, changed the diapers and cooed and gooed and kissed the wonderfully fat cheeks and relished the awesome look of wonder she had almost forgotten from seeing it in her own children’s eyes. She was Grandma now and oh how wonderful it was. She was 67 years.
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