How My Life Would’ve Been Different If I Could Teleport
[Based on the short story: How My Life Would’ve Been Different If I’d Been Shot Twice In The Stomach]
My mother feels her first contractions and suddenly I escape her womb and appear on the kitchen counter beside her. I cry. The umbilical cord is still attached. She takes me to the hospital. I am the fastest and most painless birth on record.
Everyday I wake up at 7.48. I shower and get dressed and am in class at 7.58; two minutes early. I am always the first and last person in all my classes.
I have mastered rock climbing. Getting to the top is easy. Remembering to grab on poses a challenge.
I appear magically by her side and ask for a dance. We are slowly swaying to the calm rhythm of the song. Her boyfriend returns from the snack table. I mystically disappear. She is in love.
I am a reporter. Always first (or close second) to the scene of the crime. My name is celebrated. I’m not a good writer or speaker.
I am burried. Five years later I show up on my granddaughter’s kitchen counter.