What Luck

In my memory I’m standing outside the hospital with my father-in-law and his wife, and I’m smoking a cigarette. But my memory lies. I haven’t smoked in ten years, and that night, when the bark came through the baby monitor, and the paramedics broke down the front door, and my life cracked open easy as an egg, I wouldn’t have smoked even if I wanted to; I was eight months pregnant with my third child.

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