This Journal Belongs to Ratchet by Nancy J. Cavanaugh Page B

creeper in the middle of the garage floor. His hair was wet with sweat, and his cheeks were bright red. He was just staring at the ceiling.
    I asked him if he was okay.
    He didn’t answer, so I went over and knelt down next to him.
    â€œRatchet, go get my wallet. I gotta get to the hospital.”
    I ran inside. My hands shook as I grabbed his wallet off the windowsill. This time it was my hands holding the wallet, and they were trying to save Dad. I hurried back out to the garage.
    Dad asked me to help him up, and when I touched his arm, he felt like an overheated engine.
    I asked him what was wrong.
    â€œDon’t know. I’ve just gotta get to the hospital.”
    I asked if he could even drive.
    â€œI’ll manage. You better come with me.”
    He started up the Rabbit, and the fried chicken smell made me want to throw up. Dad hunched over the steering wheel and accelerated toward the hospital.

WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
    Sitting next to Dad in the hospital room.
    His IV drips slowly,
    But my tears pour
    Until a doctor
    Finally tells me
    He’ll be all right.
    â€œAre you sure?”
    I keep asking.
    And yes,
    Everyone keeps saying,
    So my tears slow to a drip
    And keep time with the IV.

WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
    The infection happened
    Because Dad
    Worked in the garage
    Too soon.
    Teeny-tiny germs
    Seeped through the bandage
    And sneaked into Dad’s hand,
    Swam into his veins,
    Spread throughout his whole body,
    So with each drip of the IV
    I silently apologize to Dad
    Over and over again
    Because my anger
    Had already hurt him
    On the outside,
    And now it was hurting him
    On the inside too.

WRITING EXERCISE: Poetry
    Awake
    My neck stiff
    My mind foggy.
    Where am I?
    A dim hospital room
    With the TV muted
    And Dad sleeping in the bed.
    His cheeks already looking
    Their normal color.
    My legs stick to the plastic recliner I lay in.
    I stretch to get more comfortable
    And I feel the key.
    The small silver key
    That I secretly dug out of
    Dad’s beat-up, worn-out wallet
    While he was outside
    Lying on the garage floor.

WRITING EXERCISE: Life Events Journal
    â€œI thought the Good Lord might’ve been calling me home yesterday,” Dad said when he woke up. “Glad he’s letting me stick around for a while.”
    I thought I had used up all my tears, but when Dad said that I knew I had more.
    Later Dad sent me home in a cab and said he’d be home as soon as these crazy doctors let him go. I knew Dad well enough to know that he felt grateful for the crazy doctors who probably saved his life. The only person who felt more grateful than Dad was me.
    Dad told me if he wasn’t home by the time the boys came for class that I should give them the engine test, which was lying on the workbench.
    I didn’t go down to the hospital lobby until I found out from a nurse what Dad needed to do at home. Antibiotics every day and no working with his hand for two weeks.
    The antibiotics would be easy, but the rest would be impossible.

WRITING EXERCISE: Freewriting
    The boys left after taking their test. Dad wasn’t home from the hospital yet. I still had the key in my pocket. Should I use it? I knew Dad didn’t want me to, and I’d already hurt him so much, but didn’t I have the right to know what was inside the box?
    As I slid the key into the keyhole, that deep down place inside me felt like something was finally going to happen.

WRITING EXERCISE: Write a concrete poem about a recent discovery.
    The Mystery Box
    After turning the key, I lift the lid and I peek inside to see the photos of Mom and me when I was born. And me lying next to Mom in bed. And Mom holding my hands and helping me walk. So many photos of us. More stuff in the box. But I smell fried chicken. Dad is home so I lock the box and hide it again for now.

WRITING EXERCISE: Freewriting
    A question without an answer:
    Why would Dad not want me to see what’s in the box?

WRITING EXERCISE: Write a