Vaccination Day

One evening I sat in my garden with a glass of wine reviewing my life. I wondered what my greatest pain slash regret was. I let my mind wander, expecting it to settle on the day when my fiancé told me he had found someone else (on the phone for crying out loud!) and my heart splintered in thousand pieces; I thought my mind might settle on the unspeakable things that happened when I was a little girl and learned the handy skill of leaving my body. But it didn’t. Like it did not have a doubt, my mind came to rest on the day when my little daughter had another vaccine and was changed forever.


You are two years old,
and our white kitchen walls are filled
with your color drawings.
You can be happy for hours
with your big markers and pencils.
Red, yellow, and blue balloons
in geometric constellations
striving towards the sky.
You draw everything flying,
like birds and kites.

On a bright September day
we take the subway to see Dr. Osang.
There is a gentle breeze
as I push the stroller towards his office.
Your brown ringlets bounce gently
And I notice how small your feet are.
You have another vaccine for
Poliomyelitis,
Diphteria,
Tetanus,
and Pertussis.
Names like beautiful orchids
growing in foreign lands.

The next morning you go to
the kitchen table to draw
just like any other day.
You sit on your knees on the bench
in knitted garments of purple and green
and pick up a marker.
I put a load of whites in the washing machine.
And you pause.
I turn the knob to hot.
I get a cup from the shelf.
Your face says: I don’t understand.
I pour myself a cup of coffee.
Your face says: I don’t know this anymore.
There is an empty sound in my stomach.
You sit for a long time
holding the green marker.
The washing machine says swoosh, swoosh,
as it turns your little shirts and underwear.
A cold flash of fear crawls into my spine.
Then you give up and walk away.
I watch you go.
I slowly slide down onto the floor feeling
the vibration of the washing machine
in my back.
I hold my cup with both hands
and sit for a long time.
After that day there are no more balloons.
No more birds, kites,
or anything flying.