They became their own miracle

It's a rare moment that we experience anything positive in the news. But I have to say, I've become a fan of CBS Sunday Morning Show.

Last week, Steve Hartman on Sunday Morning covered a love story that made me grab my tissue box. And it's something that will encourage you too.

A newly married woman, Sonia Vallabh, discovered that she carried a rare genetic disease, called Genetic Prion Disease. She knew the disease would kill her by age fifty.

So she and her husband Eric decided to fight it. First, they googled the disease, a rapid and progressive form of dementia with no cure.

Neither Sonia nor Eric had any medical education. He was a transportation technician, and Sonia had recently graduated from law school. But that didn't stop them. They signed up for biology courses, and kept their day jobs. They intended to learn everything they could about the disease.

Then they were accepted into a PhD program at Harvard, and worked at the prestigious Broad Institute in Cambridge Massachusetts.

They are now legitimate scientists, working side by side everyday in their lab, searching for a cure, and they are quickly becoming leading experts in their field of research. If they find a cure, it will not only save Sonia, but about seven thousand other people as well.

But when Sonia turned to her husband during the interview and said,

“The miracle of my lifetime is that we met. That will always be the greatest miracle to me,” I lost it. Some people are life warriors. They fight their way through obstacles and overcome challenges. Perhaps this video will inspire you too. I hope so.

Goody Wren (A flash fiction story)

“Take what you want. It all goes,” Mom called.

“Okay.” I said from my late Grandmother's disheveled attic.

It was May. But sweat beaded my forehead as if it were steamy July. I reached for the limp puppet, and shuddered at it's icy stare, and garish red lips. My eyes fell on a note pinned to it.

“Do not discard or abuse me

or you'll have trouble and shame.

I'm a living personality

And Goody Wren is my name.”

Quickly, I closed the puppet back inside its suitcase, feeling irrational guilt for suffocating it.

“Creepy!”

“What's creepy?” My sister Emily stepped off the pull down ladder and approached me.

“Are you talking to yourself? What's in there?” Emily pointed to the suitcase.

Before I could stop her, she opened the case, squashed the puppet under her arm, and hurried to the ladder. Then came the crash followed by Emily’s scream. At the foot of the ladder, she lay blubbering, and grasping her ankle.

Mom and dad raced along the hallway, and helped Emily to the car.

“We'll drive you to the clinic,” mom said. “You'll be all right.”

Curiously, the car wouldn't start. Dad opened the hood, and checked the battery.

In the kitchen, I filled a plastic bag with ice for Emily, when Muffy, our Beagle, began barking at the hallway. When I investigated, I found the puppet crumpled on the floor.

Gently, I positioned Goody Wren on Gram's recliner, and then ran outside with the ice.

Suddenly, the engine cranked, and Dad drove off with Mom and Emily.

I stayed at Gram's with Muffy.

Two hours later, Goody Wren and the note, were folded inside the suitcase and safely hidden under an attic floorboard. Muffy snored. And Emily's ankle? Barely sprained.

Book Characters

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Cat in My Lap

It's late at night. I'm sitting at my computer, and the only one awake. All at once, a streak of yellow fur lands on my lap. It feels like a scene from a Steven King novel.

It was Jagger, my daughter's large-sized elusive cat. He has ignored me since I arrived at my daughter's house a couple of weeks ago. That is with one exception. When it's time for him to eat - and no other family member is around - he rubs up against my legs. I get the message. But as soon as I put his plate on the floor, he's back to ignoring me again.

Except on this night. Jagger the pouncer, turns on his motor. Loudly! My adrenaline is only beginning to diminish when I snapped this selfie of the contented tabby draped across my legs.

I smile and go back to typing. He rolls over on his back, and paws at my elbow while I'm typing. He's still purring. I think this is a sign of friendship. He's accepting me as part of the family. We're buddies. Right? Wrong.

 I forgot how different cats are from dogs. I'm more of a dog person.

Jagger sits up. I want to be friends and wonder if he's interested in what I'm doing. Silly thought.

In a fraction of a serene second he's off my lap, and leaping into a paper bag.

 “Hey! What are you doing?” I ask peering into the bag. I thought we were friends. He only looks at me with big cat eyes and dares me to  pry him out of his containment. I decide to leave him alone.

Alfred North Whitehead said, If a dog jumps into your lap, it is because he is fond of you; but if a cat does the same thing, it is because your lap is warmer.

I'm beginning to believe it.