Broom Math Problem

By Maria Warner

I froze as my physical therapist towered over me with a broom handle.

“I’m adding a stretch to treat your crooked back,” she said.

Flinching, I traveled back, thirty years, into math class. I solved problems on the chalkboard. A jock serving detention swept the floor. Dividing my legs with the handle, he thrusted. Everyone laughed. Red faced, yet smiling, I sat down. I was a good girl.

Now, I bristled. Uncomfortable, I rushed home. I shared my story. My daughters are subtracted from the silence of assault. Our pride, multiplied.

My girls whisk away dirt. We stand a little taller.