She saw the bundle in the corner, covered by dirty blankets. It moved. It was freezing cold. No wonder it was trying to find cover or at least a little bit of it under the shredded and filthy fabric. It must be desperate, she thought. She was just about to walk on when she heard the sound coming from under the blankets. And it was not what she had expected to hear. She froze and slowly turned around….
Lydia looked through her blood shot eyes. Her heart fought against her addiction. The dumpster at the hospital was gold to the needle fiend. But today it’s different. Her heart raced. The little innocent body pushed against the fabric of despair. Shedding the blankets of filth, the baby emerged like a butterfly from its cocoon. The little body reached out.
Lydia watched her buzz vanish. The need for the needle to take what had become of her life vanished. Her mind and heart felt the need to matter. The drug called maternal cried for the protection of this little one. Years that were never lived marked both arms. These track marked arms held a reason to live. For herself nothing mattered. This was a sign from above. The u-turn for her soul from the alter of her self destruction.
She a rounded the corner. Her tattered jeans. Her grungy flannel covered the only decent shirt she had. The security guard recognized her.
“Lydia what you got there!” Joe looks over his glasses at her.
“It’s a baby. Someone left it. I found my reason to live.” Lydia glows
“You don’t think they’ll let someone like you keep that, do you?” Responds Joe.