Lucy

           Lucy’s favorite part of the wedding wasn’t her frilly flower girl dress or the faint glitter on her cheeks. It definitely wasn’t picture time, even when she hopped up on the bride’s back for a few quick pictures. It was during the speeches when her eyes kept darting over to the colorful, sugar-filled table. At four years old, her little fingers barely reached the candy dishes. She loaded up a small bowl, popped a squat near the dance floor and watched the world go round.

            With curly red hair, dimples and an irresistible smile, Lucy made her appearance in three weddings before six years old. As years go on, her hair grows to her shoulders but those innocent dimples remain. She grows up in a home with several acres in the backyard. She regularly feeds animals, races up trees and even planted her own garden with the help of an older sister. By twelve years old, she knows she wants to own her own farm one day. Her garden gloves are always dirty, and a purple bandanna holds her sweaty hair back in place as she gathers up peppers and cucumbers.

            Lucy doesn’t give up on her dreams as a high school graduate and attends a university with a program that fits her perfectly. She notices boys but it doesn’t take long for Mr. Right to notice her and offer to walk her home one night. Because of that special twinkle in his eye, Lucy gave him a chance. Together they sketch land designs and get started on a greenhouse project. He doesn’t mind her sweaty forehead and muddy hands. He knows that Lucy is the one he wants to grow old with so he begs her to marry him. She giggles with tears in her eyes, and tells him that he doesn’t really have to beg. Of course she’ll marry him!

            Now it’s her turn to be the bride and the wedding is hosted beneath a tree that she planted when she was a little girl. Tiny flowers from her garden line her low-lying, curly red bun, and wisps of hair fly loosely, framing her face. Lucy’s dreams are coming true.

***

But this never happened. It couldn’t have, because Lucy never had a chance to live.

You see, Lucy’s mother was merely sixteen when she gasped at the positive pregnancy test in her apartment. She was lied to, coerced and prodded to make an appointment at an abortion clinic. Her trembling hands wiped away tears as she walked back to a room she would remember forever. The doctor stripped Lucy away from her mother’s womb and laid her tiny body in a metal coffin, never to be seen again. Her heart ceased to beat and her little eyes never opened.

Lucy never was.