Mercy falls like rain
If Mom hadn't mentioned the iron that day, I would have walked upper past it without a first thought, let alone a second one.But, she warned me off, saying "I've been downstairs ironing all day, so that iron is hot. Don't touch it."
Of course, that meant I had to apply it. After all, I'd been home from school for at least 10 minutes. Surely it wasn't still hot. No half measures for this 9-year-old. I laid the palm-side of my dextral hand fully on the face of the iron. It took a few seconds for the heat to register, but when it did, I pulled back and knew I should have listened (again) to my well-educated mother.
Since I had acted in blatant disobedience to her warning, I couldn't go to her for help. The pain grew more oppressive. I went into the bathroom and turned on the cold water. The relief was instantaneous, as long as I kept my convenient under the cold stream. But, there were seven of us in the house, and just the one bathroom. I couldn't stay in there indefinitely.
Back and forth I went,


