Wallflower, Late Bloomer, Two Years Later

This piece got some unexpected attention online yesterday, and while it was the basis of that story I did on DNTO in 2015, I never really shared the written version two years ago when it won third place in Room’s nonfiction contest.

Sitting on the edge of the tub I look at the large, red sore on my stumpthe edges of its oval shape roughen in the heat of the shower, small bumps push to the surface.

“What do you call your amputated leg?” H asked, years ago.

“Technically ‘residual limb.’”

“That sounds like something you can’t wash off.”

“Also stump.”

“Like you’re a tree?”

“Like part of me is.”

 

Read “Wallflower, Late Bloomer” roommagazine.com.

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