I remember the silence. I remember the door. I remember I couldn't stand or get my things off of the luggage rack...I remember that taking forever and wondering how when all I had fit into two suitcases and my brother was about to drive off with my BMW and several of my medications that I wouldn't see again until the impound lot when I was allowed to retrieve them.
I remember trying to shower. I remember throwing up for the last time and knowing it was the last time...not sure how I knew but I was like “that was the last one of those.” Dialysis..trying to clean my dressing after getting out of the hospital with the infection I got from months of living in filth and the best healthcare poverty can buy. That was the first thirty days.
I haven't thought about the first thirty days in a while.
The silence is the same. Then it was such a blessing. Comforting. I guess I'm back there now. Or maybe I never left she was just visiting for a while.
The door is closed and locked and I've got the only key.
