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Blank Canvas

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March 1990, Presbyterian Hospital

I opened my eyes again to see the man with the warm smile and the sandy blond hair from before. Dev.

"Marcy," he said, taking my hand. "I know things are a little fuzzy right now, but it’s okay. We’re going to get through this. Together."

It still hurt to talk, and for once, I was grateful, because I honestly didn’t know what to say. Everyone kept telling me my memory was hazy because of the coma following the birth of my baby girl. Maybe they were right. Maybe I really was 30. Maybe I did know this man.

"You remember Casen and Conner," he asked hopefully, "our little boys?"

Casen and Conner?

I have three kids with this man?

I gave Dev a faint smile, but my heart was racing so quickly, I worried he would be able to see it pounding right through the sheets.

What kind of mother doesn’t remember her own kids?

I closed my eyes and tried to remember, but all I saw was darkness. When I looked back up, Dev’s eyes were filled with tears.

That poor man.

I wanted so badly to remember him.

To remember our children.

To remember anything.

Beautifully rendered and full of rawness, truth, and hope, Blank Canvas is a reminder that no matter what we have suffered or lost, there is still beauty to be found in a new beginning. Saber más