Abortion/choice

 A Flash Fiction Story about Choice.

 "See you next weekend, love ya," Marcy's daughter disconnected. She checked in every few days, short calls, catch-ups on their lives.

The November wind blew leaves against the window. The sweater she was wearing wouldn't be warm enough. She went to her closet and pulled out her warmest, an Irish knit.

She thought of the November 51 years before. Her ex had left her for another woman. 

Her girl friend had parked outside the Roxbury triple decker. Inside Marcy climbed onto the newspaper covered table.

"Ready?" the man with the beer breath asked. "It will hurt."

It did. Her best friend waited outside in case Marcy would hemorrhage. She didn't.

More than once she wished she'd asked boy or girl.

More than once she wondered if she could have handled two babies under two alone.

Not well.

More than once she regretted having to chose career over daughter.

More than once she regretted having to chose daughter over career.

Still she never regretted the nights when she was exhausted having read her daughter one more story, or built one more tower from blocks.

She never regretted their cuddles and games.

She never regretted having to say no, although the yeses outnumbered the nos by far.

She never regretted their one-week summer holidays in a borrowed Maine cabin.  

She felt nothing but pride in her daughter's degree, her decision to be a stay-at-home mom for her two children, Macy's granddaughter and grandson.

She was proud when her daughter introduced her as her mom and friend, always adding, they were friends now that she was grown.

Would she do it again?

Yes.

The mixed feelings were okay.

She searched for her keys. Put on her puff coat, hat and gloves and picked up her sign and headed for the demonstration..