Meghan Simone
Bio
I love words. Sometimes they don't love me back.
Stories (1/0)
I Said Goodbye To Her Alone
I said goodbye to her alone. The hospital pillows overtook her small frame like she was drowning in them. Her normally manicured perfect flume of violet hair now depressed and a faded shade of white. She was in a black box, pixelated and glitchy, and I left my hand up in a frozen wave as I closed it. I turned my head and stared at the poorly painted wall next to me, wondering if perhaps that’s the sort of thing she was also looking at. Maybe the hospital room had a window she could look out. It was unknown to me; I would never know the inside of that hospital room, or which nurse would call it when that time inevitably came. I tried to remember the color of the scrubs her nurse was wearing. I ignored the most devastating facts while unimportant questions plagued me. What color her last Jell-O might be. The design of the socks she would be wearing when it came time to take them off her. Maybe sheep. Or frogs. I got her a pair of long socks with frogs on them once when I was on vacation years ago. I shuddered to think of how I walked the streets and went to restaurants - even a concert, all without the protection and comfort of a blue mask.
By Meghan Simone3 years ago in Families