She remembered those first seconds of desperation; trying to dislodge the limb from her screaming child, then the terrifying wait after she called 911.That had been twenty years ago, and now, even now, standing on the porch, her palms would get sweaty and her limbs would start to shake. Standing on the porch with her arm around her daughter the terror of those first moments were as stark and real as when they first occurred. It was an enervating remembrance; an omnipresent fear.She remembered every single minute, every single day, the arrival of the paramedics, the fright in their eyes; their grim solicitude convinced her that her child’s chances were nonexistent. She remembered their frantic efforts to lift the branch, finding her husband’s chain saw, cutting the limb away, the baleful screams of her little girl every time the branch moved even just a fraction of an inch.Riding in the ambulance that day was the longest trip of her life. How much pain killer could one give a four. Her father was evidently making her life hell for her bad decision with Karl. It had gotten so bad that Juanita had decided that next time, no matter what, she was not going home again.She said that Juanita had given her a letter from her father with his new address. The letter didn't say much other than to give the address and tell her that he was working on returning as soon as possible. Oh yeah, and it seems like Juanita's father had called Maria's father telling him that Maria was missing. Maria's father was so upset that he was thinking about paying one of the coyote's who smuggle illegals across the border to secrete him across so he could come back to look for her. Juanita's father had wanted Maria's father to file a report with the police but they had decided to wait hoping that she would show up in the next couple of days. Maria had promised Juanita that she would call her father the next day and let him know she was alright.We worked at the apartment so late that I decided.
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