My great hope

All I could do was say it plain out. Mom, I’m pregnant. I’d imagined all sorts of reactions to this. I thought she might cry, or slap me, or yell at me.

But she didn’t do any of that. She stared at me. Maybe she was breathing a little harder than normal, but otherwise you’d think I told her something mundane, like Mom, the dryer stopped.

Finally she shriveled somehow, folded in on herself, and said, My great hope for you . . .

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

3 thoughts on “My great hope”

  1. “Tell us about the speech grandaddy did, the one you helped with.”
    Even with his chocolate skin, I could see daddy blushing. Every Thanksgiving we’d ask him to tell the story. Reluctantly, he’d stand and silence and awe covered our expectant ears.
    “My daddy, your grandaddy, was stuck. He was talking to Nana about this “great hope” speech and asked me what mine was. Well, I didn’t know what a great hope was; I was only a child. But I told him, ‘Daddy, I have a dream…'”

  2. Promise you won’t laugh? Promise? I won’t tell if you’re going to laugh. You have to promise. Look at me. Come on, look me in the eye. Do you solemnly swear not to make fun of me if I tell you what my great hope is? Swear. Alright, then…

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