Kelly’s Shoes

 …the one shall be taken, and the other shall be left.

Leaving her home abruptly upon word of her son’s injuries, Norma Stevens headed for Presbyterian Hospital in Albuquerque, where Kelly was soon in surgery. I imagine at first, she didn’t really know what to expect, although once at the hospital, it took little time to grasp the extent of the situation. There were so many injuries that one necessary surgery had to be deferred to treat other, more urgent, medical needs. Friday night’s surgery would be only the beginning.

Meanwhile, the three younger ones remained at home, waiting that uneasy wait.

At one point, someone at home caught a headline about the wreck on the late night news, and they all gathered to watch. There was the scene—dark of course, as it occurred at night. It was hard to make out details, but even though the car involved was mangled, there was a report that some injuries weren’t as serious as others—maybe something as simple as “just” a broken nose.

As the news camera filmed the response team wrapping up their work at the crash site, Kelly’s sister took a long look at the body on the guerney, waiting to be whisked into the ambulance. Even on the television monitor in the darkness, she could tell it wouldn’t be Kelly that was the one with the broken nose. She could see enough detail on that guerney to know: it was the other guy who walked away.

Those were Kelly’s shoes.