Leather
Home. Home? Home.
Two gasps as we walked through the door;
“I can see us living here,” we chorused.
A year-long search,
A perfect home.
We made it our own.
-
We filled our bedroom with blues.
We promised we’d do that, in Fiji.
A space of tranquility.
A respite from life.
We play man and wife.
-
This year was leather.
July twenty-first.
Of the three dates,
It would be the worst.
-
Early morning, the sun barely up
Surrounded by turquoise and teal,
The whole day ahead,
We snuggled in bed.
I realized that I didn’t feel
Safe.
-
Pain and white light.
Something was wrong.
My body didn’t belong
To me anymore.
I stumbled out
Of our beautiful room
Into the bathroom
And sat on the floor.
-
I started to shake
From my head to my toes.
I screamed you awake
As I entered the throes
Of convulsions and then
You were saying “Oh God!”
Next thing I knew men
Had carried me out
To a stretcher in front
Of our beautiful house.
-
“No blood in your brain.”
That’s what they said
After reviewing
The scans of my head.
“Buy a lottery ticket,”
A doctor’s cliché
To explain that one’s lucky
They’re alive today.
-
Both carotids were closed
Ninety-nine percent.
They scheduled a surgeon
To insert some stents.
-
“We promise you won’t
Remember a thing.”
That might have been true,
If not for me waking,
Strapped down to the table,
And nobody knew.
They were working inside me
But I couldn’t do
Anything. Not move, or talk.
I just had to lay there,
Terrified and in shock.
-
Four days, in total,
Spent in ICU.
On Sunday they said,
“We’re discharging you!”
-
Home. I came home.
But it wasn’t the same.
There, was the bed
Where I first felt the pain.
And there, the hardwood
Bathroom floor,
Where I didn’t know
If I’d see you anymore.
-
It’s been over a month, now.
Some good days, some bad.
I try to be normal.
Try not to be sad.
Sometimes it’s hard
To believe it was real.
And sometimes I still
Struggle to feel
Safe.
-
But you’re there by my side.
On the good days, and bad.
We’re in this together,
We’re making it through.
And now, I realize, that my “home” is you.
About the Creator
Amanda Kelly
The written word is a beautiful medium.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.