of the dullest things. I long for a simple routine. A package of little tasks, not muddled through, but begun and neatly adieu-ed.
A cup of hot tea drunk politely, a walk through the village (they could set their clocks by me), tidy the dishes, water the plants, converse with the birds...
You may think I do these Littles everyday and anyway, but sometimes the hunger for larger dreams consumes me. World domination, whirlwind romance with Hollywood dish, Poet Laureate of the Hospital Genre, etc etc...
There are no windows on the Surgical Short Stay Unit. It is a box, with blue curtains and friendly wardens. Creamed potatoes for lunch, jam tart with my tea, needle in my writing hand and the life saving Human Immuno Globulins (The Goblins!) flowing through me.
In a place without windows, a girl can learn to dream, but also learn not to believe in her dreams. Dreams without flight. Lately I dream, without flight.
6 comments:
This is stunning, wonderful writing.
As for the reality behind it- you are so graceful in your fight.
Hoping you feel the sun on your face soon, dear Shaista.
Hello Shai! Been wondering how you are in the ward! No reason not to plot world domination from there, y'know. Guess you'll just have to decide world domination in what terms first :) All of it? A particular aspect? Will you stroke a furry white cat?
And hey which Hollywood dish would you choose to romance? Spill all...
Again, your writing cuts to the heart. I remember many a day of sitting for hours with a needle in my arm. It was only a year for me, but even in that amount of time it is difficult to keep sight of those dreams outside the window. The world outside that hospital room window began to feel like a seperate world inhabited by people of another species. I remember that feeling still. Wishing you sun on your face and dreams that take flight. OX
I came here via Maia's blog. It is a world beyond expectations. Beautiful writing.
Beautiful writing. Sending love and warmth.
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