Lorraine Haig

Into the Unknown

We step into a deep, dark hole when we’re told our daughter will not develop past the age of 12.

Somehow, we manage, each in our own way, one day at a time. I take her to physio, occupational and speech therapy, wondering if it will make any difference. My partner, whom I rarely see now, copes by fishing.

12 is still below the horizon when our two-year-old daughter sits for the first time without toppling sideways. At three years of age, she stands taking her first, stiff steps. There are nine years to go.

12 is looming larger. It rises each morning like a verdict. She starts school and the bullies circle her like wolves.

In her tenth year we make a chocolate cake together and it wins a prize at the local show.

As the shadow of the giant 12 darkens the grass the three of us sit in the sun. We’re beginning to hope

12 is only made of cardboard as we pass between the two numerical skyscrapers.

empty nest
through a budding peach tree
patches of sky

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About the Author

Lorraine Haig’s haiku, tanka, and haibun appear in journals worldwide. She has a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. Curving into Light, her first haiku collection, was published by Forty South in 2023.  She is the recipient of a 2024 Touchstone Award for Individual Haibun.

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