Fireflies.

1. Dark

Darkness.
It's suffocating.
Until it's broken by a single flash of light.
A firefly.
I can feel the cold, hard concrete under my bare feet.
The still air allows sounds of terror to reach my ears.
A scream.
Broken glass.
Angry and unforgiving voices.
I shakily reach for the firefly.
My source of life for the moment.
This moment.
This moment of peace, I decide.
I smile as a little flicker of hope lights up in my palm.
My toes hang over the edge of the sidewalk, and I'm ready to run.
The unforgiving voices are getting closer.
I set the firefly free.
He wouldn't want to stay with me, anyway.
My eyes are finally adjusting to the darkness.
I can see an alley across the street.
There will probably be broken glass.
But it's not anything I haven't dealed with before.
The smile lingers on my face for a moment longer.
Trash cans.
I can hide.


2. Alley

The air around me is getting heavier.
It is going to rain.
The alley's trash cans kept me safe during the night.
But now I need to move before I'm discovered.
I move sluggishly.
Bad.
Not safe.
I could be seen.
Until the rain begins.
Soft at first.
Then hard.
And fast.
It hurts, but I know that I can't be seen.
It's like being invisible in an invisible world.
I know my way.
The city's edge isn't far.
The suburbs should be safer.
I wonder how the babies are doing without power.
Or the sick people.
I want to help them.
But I don't know how.
And even if I did, I wouldn't be able to.
I need enough help as it is.


3. Suburbs

I've been running for a long time.
The rain has continued to soak me for the past two days.
It wont stop.
The streets are flooding.
It's not as bad now that they're wider, though.
There doesn't seem to be anyone here.
I'm worried.
What happened to all of the people?
I stop and sit on a curb.
The water running over my feet is pink from the blood.
I haven't been able to see the stones or broken glass.
I pick a pebble out of a deep cut in my pinky toe.
I wish that I had some shoes.
Or a sweatshirt.
I'm cold.
I don't like it.
And the sun is going down again.
I look up at the house in front of me.
There's something strange about it.
I take in the white paint, red shutters, perfect lawn.
Wait.
How can the lawn be perfect if no one is there?
I stand, ignoring the pain in my feet again.
I become painfully aware of how bad I look as I approach the door.
I try the bell first, knowing that it won't work.
I jump as Beethoven's Third echoes through the house.


4. Perfect Lawn

I lose track of time as I stand on the porch.
It's nice to be out of the rain.
But I'm still cold.
And I'm too thin.
And my feet need to be fixed.
And I'm probably sick.
My senses stopped registering pain a long time ago.
Even before the blackout.
I barely notice the front door opening or the old woman practically dragging me through it.
I do notice when she starts to take my few clothes, though.
I found her house just in time, she tells me.
She says my lips are purple.
I tell her that's normal.
She says that my feet are infected.
I tell her that I already knew that.
She thinks that I don't eat enough.
I tell her that I eat when I have food.
She smiles and continues taking my clothes.
I can smell something good from another part of the house.
My stomach wants it.
I want it.
Suddenly I am very aware of where I am.
There is a fire in front of me, and I am wearing a blanket.
The old woman is washing my clothes in the next room.
There is a plate of food beside me.
The smell.
I don't even care what it is.
Only that it's food.


5. Old Woman

The old woman tells me that my hair is beautiful as she brushes the knots out of it.
I thank her.
And I agree.
I've always liked it.
Long and black and straight.
We are by the fire again.
She has been taking care of me.
Today was the worst.
I spent the better part of it in the bathroom, throwing up.
It was terrible.
And it made me very tired.
I'm starting to get my feelings back.
I can sense when I'm hungry.
I can feel the pain in my feet.
She says that they are starting to get better.
I'll be able to walk again soon.
It hurts too much now.
She wonders how I made it this far.
I tell her that I am tough.
She says that she can see that in my eyes.
I think she was wondering something other than how I got to her house.
But I'm afraid to ask.
I'll have to move on soon.
She's becoming attached to me.
That never turns out well.
I live alone for a reason.


6. Running

I am sitting in the front yard as the sun rises.
A firefly lands in my palm.
It's a sign.
It's time to go.
I stand up on my healed feet.
They feel much better.
I silently thank the woman for her kindness.
She was, by far, the most wonderful person I have ever met.
She healed my wounds.
She helped me to feel love.
She took care of me.
Like a mother would.
I stay in the grass in order to avoid hurting my feet again.
I begin to run.
Slowly at first.
Then hard.
Just like the rain.
I run until the sun is high in the sky.
I'm not so happy that I can feel the hunger again.
I look around for something to eat.
There's an apple tree across the road.
The hot asphalt annoys my tender feet.
The apples are sour, but I eat three.
I'm not satisfied.
I climb the tree and look around again.
For perfect yards.
There's one a few houses down the road.
And there are garbage cans.
How I love those things.


7. Country

The houses are showing more signs of life out here.
Mostly because they're so far apart.
And I think that I've figured out how they have energy.
Generators.
I think.
But what other explanation is there?
I am running again.
The areas between houses scare me.
I always run.
When I reach the houses, I stop and get food.
If they don't feed me, I take it.
Most people don't expect a little wirey girl with a knife to crash their parties.
I wonder how the old woman is doing.
I hope that I didn't hurt her too much by leaving.
She was too nice.
I didn't want to hurt her.
I slow to a walk and take in my surroundings.
I'm at the top of a hill, and I can see the city and suburbs that I have left behind.
It makes me smile.
I am free.
I turn around and there are a bunch of black berry bushes.
Above them apples hang onto the branches of a tree.
My smile widens.
I will stay here.
I feel safe knowing that I can see all around me at any moment.
I look all around the hill, just to make sure that there aren't any houses nearby.
This smile is here to stay.


8. Nightmares

It's dark.
I'm afraid.
I'm too young to have to deal with this.
The screaming is very close.
I can't see what's happening, but I know.
It hurts to think about it.
I don't want them to hurt her.
She takes care of me.
What could she have done to deserve this?
But I know.
I know.
I don't want to, but I do.
And now I know what's happening.
I don't move until the screaming that turned into moaning stops.
They are gone, and now so is she.
I shed no tears.
This is where my life begins, I know.
I don't look at her.
I don't want to see what they did to her.
I leave the dark closet and the apartment that was once my home.
Sweat drips across my face.
I sit up.
Nightmares.
I hate them.
Especially when they're true.


9. The Hill

I sit in the apple trees and watch as the city puts itself back together.
It's a great show.
I have the best seat in the house.
The air is getting heavy again.
That's good, I'm thirsty.
I am bored of waiting for the rain and the city to wake up.
I'm lonely.
I miss the old woman.
Silently, I climb down from the tree.
I lay down in the dirt at the bottom and fade in and out of sleep for a few moments.
Moisture is on my cheeks.
I'm not crying.
It's raining softly.
I wonder if it will speed up like last time.
That would be great.
The sky is darkening.
The rain is getting louder.
Thunder and lightening scare me under the rock I found earlier.
I hope that it collects a decent amount of rain water.
I am calm under the rock.
Very calm.


10. More Nightmares

Hot sunshine beats down on me.
I'm sitting on top of a building with my boyfriend.
He's been taking care of me since she "left."
He tells me happy things.
He makes me laugh.
I'm still afraid.
He thinks that I'm being silly.
But I know what she did.
Even though I don't want to.
I won't tell him.
He’s annoyed.
He smiles and sticks out his tongue at me.
He keeps trying to cheer me up.
We are happy together, but I am still afraid.
He takes me home with him.
It's too quiet.
I'm afraid.
Shivers go down my spine.
I feel cold drips on my face.
More nightmares.
Hot tears.
That one made me cry.
Why do they have to come after me?
I didn't do anything!
It was her.
And they got her.
And now they want me.
And anyone who is associated with me.


11. Bats
I wake up again.
The sun is going down.
I slept for a long time.
My eyes are puffy, and my nose is stuffed.
I feel heavy and slow.
And I’m hungry.
I eat some berries and an apple.
Still hungry.
I stand up and walk down the hill.
It’s steep, and I start to run.
Something hard catches my foot.
I fall.
I slide the rest of the way down the hill.
My foot hurts.
It’s bleeding a lot.
There is something dark green around the cut.
It looks like paint.
I ignore the pain.
That’s easy.
I climb slowly up the hill to where I fell.
Here it is.
There’s some sort of trap door.
It’s rusty.
I manage to pull it open.
Bats.


12. Peace
I don’t know if all of the bats are gone yet.
I’m going inside anyway.
The room is dark and damp.
I didn’t expect it to be any different.
It’s underground.
The room’s darkness reminds me of The Closet.
I don’t like it.
I leave.
I can come back later.
When I have some way of seeing.
The sun is almost down.
I go back to the rock to see if any water collected during the storm.
I’m thirsty.
It helps.
The moon is out.
My old friends the fireflies are accompanying her.
I smile at the peaceful moment they’ve created.
They’ve always helped me out with that.
They seem to want to be near me tonight.
Their glow is making me feel safe.
I can see all around me.
The room.


13. The Last Nightmare
They follow me as though I’m the pied piper of bugs.
There are strange sounds in the valley below me, but I ignore them.
I am enchanted by this power I have over my favorite beings.
They illuminate the room that I discovered.
And I find things.
Amazing things.
Like food.
And weapons.
And first aid kits.
I know that pure joy is radiating off of me.
I can feel it.
It’s pulsing.
Just like the fireflies.
Joy.
Joy.
Joy.
No.
There’s something else here now.
I can feel another presence.
I stop and listen.
Someone is coming.
I grab my knife.
I try to scatter the fireflies.
They won’t leave.
I’m afraid.
Someone walks in.
Unforgiving.
He is tall and unforgiving.
That is how he looks.
And it’s how he sounds when he says my name.
He’s going to kill me, I realize.
I stand up and brandish my knife.
I won’t go down without a fight.
No way.


14. The Opposite of Joy
I killed him.


15. Walking
My knife is soiled.
I cannot look at it.
I know that if given the opportunity, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself.
I’m walking now.
I took some supplies from the room.
Then I blew it up.
He was inside.
I will not be caught.
I took one last look at the city from my first-class seat before I left.
They are putting it back together.
I wondered for the first time in that moment what had caused the blackout.
Anything to distract my mind.
I am looking for water.
Maybe a stream.
That way I can wash off the blood.
At least I’m not hungry anymore.


16. Safe?
Now I’m clean.
And I’m a lot farther from the city.
I wonder if anyone is still following me.
I don’t think that I could kill another person.
That would break me.
One person can only be so strong.
I’ve built a camp beside a river.
I’m doing well.
I’m not hungry anymore.
But the nights are getting colder.
I wonder how I will survive the winter.
There won’t be any warm places to hide in the country.
I think that I should try to find another welcoming old woman.


17. Fall
I slowly climb out of the river.
The sun dries me quickly.
I pull on my clothes and grab the stolen backpack.
It’s time to find a temporary home.
I try running for a little bit, but I’m out of shape.
And it’s difficult with a backpack.
I can see a house in the distance.
I run.
Slowly.
But as fast as I can.
The wind seems to be pushing me along.
It is blowing against my back.
Speeding me up.
Then it cools off.
And just like that.
It’s Fall.
The wind picks up and brings clouds over my head.
It’s raining.
Slowly.
Just like my running.


18. Exploration
The house is abandoned.
The rain has picked up.
It’s cold.
I break down the front door.
The house is beautiful.
I find a bedroom and abandon my backpack.
This house is worthy of being explored.
The stairs creak.
There are about a dozen cats living here.
They own it.
Not me.
That much is obvious.
I find tools in one room.
Another seems to be some kind of office.
There are a lot of books.
My hands itch with the urge to pick them up.
There is a typewriter.
There are three other bedrooms upstairs.
One room is locked.
I’m afraid of that room.
Because it’s unknown.
I find the attic.
It is dusty.
But so is the rest of the house.
There are lots of old clothes up here.
There is more house to be discovered, but I am tired.
That first bed is calling my name.


19.Safe
This house is safe.
I know that I won’t be found out here.
The only thing that I worry about is smoke from fires.
I’ve been collecting wood.
Blisters hurt.
But I like preparing for the winter.
It helps to distract my thoughts.
So do the books in the office.
I spend a lot of time worrying about that room.
I think that I found the key.
But I’m afraid to open the door.
I don’t know what I’m so scared about.
But I only get scared when it’s something real.
Like the nightmares.
When I was running.
My body knew.
Somehow.
That I would find the old woman.
Maybe I have a sixth sense.
Or maybe it’s the fireflies.
I see them every night.
But none come near me.
They only do that when it’s time to move.


20. Crazy
I’m thankful for the cats.
They’ve kept me company the entire time that I’ve been here.
It’s snowing.
I am petting a little white kitten.
She looks like the snow.
I tell her that that is her name now.
She looks up at me with big eyes and purrs softly.
As though she likes the name.
I can’t see past the window.
It’s that fast.
I’m afraid that I’m going to get trapped inside.
And then I’ll go crazy.
I can barely sit still now, thinking about it.
But the cats will keep keeping me company.
They’re almost as important to me now as the fireflies.
I wonder where they go when it snows.


21. Snow
It snowed a lot last night.
I am trying to pry open the window.
There are big pots sitting all around me.
We are all thirsty.
And snow is good for that.
The window slams open and snow pours onto the floor.
I grab a pot and pull some snow into it from outside.
It makes my arm feel frozen.
But I like it.
It reminds me of building snowmen in the park.
When I lived in the city.
A good winter.
Before she did that terrible thing.
I stop thinking about it.
There is more snow to collect.
I pack it into all of the pots.
They’re heavy.
I drag them into the kitchen.
I light the burner with a match.
I can only lift one of the smaller ones.
It melts quickly.
I turn off the burner.
Let it cool.
Set it on the floor.
Kittens.


22. Leaving
The snow is almost completely gone.
The cats helped me survive this winter.
They brought me birds once in a while.
And I found food in the basement.
Just like that room under the hill.
I still haven’t opened that room.
I read all the books.
I wrote some poems on the typewriter.
Based on things that have happened in my life.
I leave them in a neat pile in the office.
I hope someone finds them some day.
Someone like me.
I pick up my packed backpack.
It’s time to move on.
I need to find a home.
The tall grass in the yard tickles my feet.
I know that I’m out of shape.
So I don’t try to run yet.
A few kittens are following me.
A few tears slide down my cheeks.
I let them for today.
But they have to go home.
To their families.


23. Somewhere
I am walking along a stream.
I wonder if it’s the same stream as before.
My legs want to run.
I obey.
I run until the sun goes down.
Then I keep running.
The sun comes up and I’m hungry.
So I stop.
I eat.
Then I run some more.
I want to get somewhere.
Today.
I don’t like being alone.
I can see the outline of a city in the distance.
I smile.
I’m somewhere.
I stop running.
This is enough to satisfy my legs.
For now.


24. New
The city is both familiar and strange.
I’m happy to be in this environment and scared at the same time.
I know what is hidden in the shadows.
I wonder if the things in the shadows are the same as my city.
I cross the street to avoid walking past a dark alley.
I hear happy people.
Around the corner.
With music.
I walk there.
It’s a mechanic’s shop.
I like cars.
I ask about needing help.
They say no thanks.
I tell them that I know lots.
They ask me to tell them what is wrong with one of the cars.
I tell them.
From their reactions, it seems that they didn’t know.
They smile at me and pat me on the back.
And welcome me.
I have a job.
My first job.
In a strange city.
A new beginning.
I feel taller.


25. Party
They don’t ask me where I go after work.
And I don’t tell them.
Although it’s better than my old city life.
It’s not much better.
I’m embarrassed.
But they don’t ask.
And they like me.
So it’s okay.
They invited me to a party tonight.
I am walking down a street with a lot of dark alleys.
It makes me shiver.
Even though it’s fall.
I find the building.
I ring the bell.
They tell me to come on up.
So I do.
The whole crew is there.
With food.
And a big television.
Playing music.
I can’t help it.
I stare.
They all laugh and bring me into the room.
Am I old enough to drink?
I don’t remember.
They give me one anyway.
I smile.
It’s disgusting.


26. Dirty
The party was fun.
I stopped drinking after that first one.
I didn’t like it.
Never have.
I wonder why they do as I walk home in the dark.
The shadows are scaring me.
I start to run.
Fast.
Like the wind on this cool night.
I find my building.
Everything is dirty.
But that’s nothing new.
I lay down on the mattress stuffed in the corner of my one room apartment.
I sigh.
I wish I lived in the apartment that the party was in.
I get up and grab my mail.
Bills.
I hate them.
Sometimes I think that it was easier living on the streets.


27. Good Day
My boss wants to talk to me.
He’s worried about my living situation.
I hate it when silent agreements are broken.
He thinks that I need a raise.
I’ve done a lot of work over the past few months.
More than any man who’s worked here before me.
I smile at him.
Thank him.
He gives me my paycheck for the week.
It is doubled.
I scream.
Hug him.
He laughs.
This is a good day.
I go to the bank and pay off one of my debts.
Then I go out for ice cream to celebrate.
Vanilla.
It is delicious.
I see a little girl with a kitten.
Her hair is like mine.
Long and black and straight.
I wonder if that is how I looked at the house.
I feel so much older now.


28. Famous
Noises in the night.
They scare me more than the shadows.
Mostly because they have a reason to come after me now.
And they might know where I am.
I am famous in the car world here.
Unforgiving voices.
Down the hall.
Breaking down doors.
Easily.
I can’t breathe.
Relax, I tell myself.
The window.
It opens noisily.
I push myself through.
Happy that I live on the first floor.
I pull the window closed.
I don’t want to be chased.
I run to the apartment where the party was.
My boss opens the door.
He wants to know what’s wrong.
I won’t tell him.
He lets me stay anyway.
I thank him.
He says it’s no problem.
He looks very worried.
I think he knows that I have a bad past.
The old woman knew.
You can see it in my eyes.


29. It’s Not Fair
I don’t want to leave again.
But I am.
I have to.
The people that I’ve gotten close to could be hurt.
And I don’t want that to happen.
My boss gave me my last paycheck as I was leaving.
I’m thankful.
But I’m sad, too.
It is raining.
The water soaks my feet.
It blurs my vision.
That might not be the rain.
Tears.
It’s not fair.
I can’t stop thinking this thought.
It won’t go away.
My stumbling leads me to the edge of the city.
The edge that I came in.
I’ll need to stay somewhere for the winter.
I think of the house.
That would work.
It kept me safe for one winter.
It should again.
Besides.
I miss the kittens.


30. Ruins
I’ve been running from the city for days now.
The countryside amazes me.
The leaves are every shade of beautiful.
The birds keep me company in the day.
The fireflies in the night.
I can’t wait until I reach the house.
Probably at some time today.
I keep running, knowing this.
I can see the hill that the house was on ahead.
There is no house.
Only a dark shadow.
I slow to a walk.
No need to hurry now.
I reach where the house was.
Ruins.
That is what it looks like.
The stone is crumbled in places.
Everything that was wooden is burned.
I can hear the kittens.
They’re here somewhere.


31. Search
All night I searched for the cats.
I can’t find them.
So now I’m waiting.
For the sun.
I don’t like the dark anyway.
It never brings good things for me.
The sun is rising.
I can see a little spot of green in the middle of the ruins.
I investigate.
It is a sapling.
It reminds me of myself.
Strong.
The light makes searching easier.
I see kittens emerging from the rubble.
Not as many as there were before.
But I see Snow.
She is bigger.
I let her follow me this time.


32. New Directions
We go another way today.
I don’t want to go into another city.
Cities aren’t good for me.
Even though they are where I belong.
We let the wind lead us.
We go along the highway.
There are cars whizzing by.
I see deer eating grass.
There are a lot of them.
One comes close to me.
Very close.
It seems that if I wanted to I could pet her.
I don’t.
Nature seems to like me.
So when we reach a national park, we stop.
There are other people here.
A lot of them.
They’re very friendly.
They share their campfire meals with me.
Snow can take care of herself.
I know that she’ll be back in the morning.
Maybe I can stay here.
It seems like the best place for me.
I could work here.
I could take care of animals.
Or something along those lines.
It’s hard to think of what I could do to help.
Education seems to be important.
And I never finished high school.


33. Strange Things
Snow is missing.
I am calling her.
People are looking at me as though I’m crazy.
I don’t care what they think.
I need to find her.
I am working my way deeper and deeper into the woods.
It’s getting dark.
I am still calling for her.
I see a fire in the trees ahead.
I’m like a mosquito the way I’m drawn to it.
It’s not a fire.
But I’m scared.
An entire tree is covered with fireflies.
Blinking.
Shining.
And Snow is in the tree.
The echoes of their blinks reflecting.
It was a signal.
Bugs are not that intelligent.
But I can’t think of any logical explanation.
I thank them.
Even though I’m terrified.
And I shakily climb the tree.
Snow climbs onto my shoulder.
Willingly.
This is strange, too.
Cats don’t do that when they’re being rescued.
I want to go back to the city.
Nature is freaking me out.


34. Graveyard
Snow is leading the way now.
We’re walking through a little village.
Diner.
Bait shop.
Gas station.
Houses.
It’s cute.
She decided a good direction.
I don’t really know where we are anymore.
But I don’t want to.
Wandering into a car graveyard.
To me, it looks beautiful.
Cars.
Shining.
I reach into one and sound its horn.
It echoes around the yard.
I like the look of shattered windshields.
Flat tires.
Exposed engines.
There’s a neat little convertible.
Mustang.
Wild, like the horses.
With its top down.
Gleaming red paint.
Slick leather seats.
It looks perfect.
I scramble over sharp pieces of metal.
Slicing my leg.
I want this car.
And it wants me.
Of course I can hotwire it.
But I need to check it out first.
I do.
It needs oil.
And gas.
And new tires.
And the top won’t close.
But that’s it.
It’s perfect.


35. Traveling
The wind is playing with my hair.
And I love it.
I go faster and faster.
Testing the engine.
I know what I’m doing.
At least with cars.
Snow is beside me.
Loving it as much as I am.
It’s close to midnight.
The stars are the brightest that I’ve ever seen them.
The moon is right in front of me.
Awesomely white and bright.
I wonder how far I’ll be able to get.
I only have two hundred dollars.
I pass a truck.
A few cars.
I like going fast.
It makes me feel powerful.
And I feel like I’m getting somewhere now.
The wind is tangling my hair.
Annoying.
I slow down.
Go into the right lane.
Police car.
At the side of the road.
Checking speeds.
It’s a good thing that I slowed down.
Or I would’ve gotten into trouble.


36. Gas Station
My stomach is growling.
I don’t want to stop.
But I need more gas anyway.
I pull my stolen car into a gas station.
The sun is hot.
Hotter than ever.
The leather seat sticks to my thighs as I get out.
I tell the attendant what I am getting.
Two hotdogs.
A bottled water.
A tank of gas.
Thirty dollars.
I’m going to get far on this money.
And when I run out I’ll get a job.
And try to start a new life again.
Maybe they won’t find me this time.
As long as I don’t get famous.
I get back into the car.
Start the engine.
It’s making weird noises.
I turn it off.
Check the engine.
Nothing wrong.
That I can see.
Start the engine again.
Leave the little station.
Merge onto the highway.
Weird noises.
Getting louder.
Louder.
Louder.


37. Hospital
Clean sheets.
Soft voices.
Beeping machines.
I blink my eyes open slowly.
Bright lights burn my eyes.
My face feels stiff.
I can’t move my arms.
My foot feels heavy.
I’m in a hospital.
I look at my arms.
They’re covered in bandages.
I look at my foot.
Snow.
She is curled up on my ankle.
She looks a little singed, but still happy.
I wonder about my face.
A nurse comes in.
She makes an agitated face at Snow.
She tells me that I was burned in a car accident.
And that I have a visitor.
It’s the attendant from the gas station.
He says that he found me.
But it was strange that he did.
Because it was my cat that led him to me.
She was very determined.
My cat saved my life, he tells me.
I try to tell him that she was just repaying a favor.
But I can’t.
My mouth is covered.
And I’m too tired.


38. Small Room
They are wondering how I am going to pay for the treatment.
I am wondering the same thing.
The only friend I have is my boss.
And I don’t know how to contact him.
It’s a good thing that I can’t talk yet.
The nurse is bringing me to a small room.
She says that the bandages need to come off of my arms.
She closes the door.
The walls seem to close around me.
I try to shut out the world.
I vaguely notice as a needle goes into my shoulder.
We wait a few minutes.
She pokes my arm and I can’t feel it.
The bandages don’t want to come off.
She does it anyway.
Pieces of myself.
Gone.
With the bandage.
I can’t look.
This is going to hurt later.
She re-bandages my arms.
Carefully.
We leave the room.
There are a lot of people in the halls.
I like looking at them.
Imagining why they’re here.
Some stories look sad.
Others exciting.
Others happy.


39. Watching
Watching.
That’s what I’m doing.
This is much more entertaining than the television.
Old man with a cane.
Deep wrinkles carved into his pale face.
Knuckles fat with arthritis.
Moving slowly.
No hurry.
Very young boy.
No hair.
Eating a candy bar.
Smiling to himself.
A man pushing a woman in a wheelchair.
She has a baby in her arms.
They must be married.
They look so happy.
Even the pinched little face of the baby looks happy.
Old woman.
Haphazard nurse uniform.
She is smiling, yet she emanates deep sadness.
She is familiar.
The old woman.
She’s the one who took care of me.
She’s gone past my door.
I sit up in the bed.
Aware of the pain, yet ignoring it.
I get up.
The nurse comes in the room.
Stops me.
I can’t stop the tears.


40. Reunion
I don’t like the way the tears feel under the bandages.
My face is still covered.
I hope the scars aren’t too bad.
Sleep teases me.
But I don’t want to.
My foot feels too light.
Snow.
I don’t see her.
The tears start again.
A hand on my shoulder.
I open my eyes.
The old woman.
And Snow.
I get up and hug her.
Ignoring the pain.
She looks into my eyes.
I’m afraid of what she is seeing.
Because I know that they are different.
She looks down on me with caring eyes.
Strokes my long dark hair.
She says that I look broken.
She tells me that she’s going to fix me.
She talks to me for a long time.
She knew that I was going to leave.
But taking care of me reminded her of what was important.
At least to her.
And she decided that she wanted to volunteer again.
At this hospital.
Because this was where she spent a good part of her life.
I want to know why she was here.
But I can’t ask.
It’s frustrating.
She leaves.
But she’ll be back tomorrow.


41. Fear
I sit still as they peel the bandages from my face.
The old woman stands beside me.
Support.
Holding onto my scarred hand.
My eyes move to my arms.
The long, deep scars.
I’m afraid of what I am going to look like.
I grip the old woman’s hand.
Fearful.
I close my eyes.
Retreat into my mind.
Wait for the pain to go away.
It’s gone.
But now I’m stuck with my thoughts.
The old woman told me that she’d find a way to pay for this.
I don’t know how to thank her for her kindness.
She’s been nothing but helpful to me.
I open my eyes.
I can’t meet those of the nurses.
I’m afraid of what they’re seeing.
The old woman laughs and tells me to stop frowning.
I frown at her.
She sneers at me.
I can’t help but laugh.
It hurts to stretch my face.
But it feels good, too.
I stand up.
Try to tuck my fears into a safe place.
Walk slowly toward a mirror.
A moment of indecision.
I let them focus on the reflection.
Not mine.
Two long scars.
Deep and dark.
Eye to chin.
Ear to chin.
They meet in a v.


42. Goodbyes
They’ve done their best to get rid of the scars.
I am saying goodbye to the old woman this time.
She is crying.
But trying to hide it.
I am, too.
She takes my hand in hers.
Puts an envelope into it.
I hug her.
Say goodbye again.
Tears sliding down my cheeks.
I thank her again.
She hands me a pair of sneakers.
Promise to come see her again.
Tears pouring down my cheeks.
I wish I could stay with her.
But it’s not safe.
I step away from the old woman.
My guardian angel.
I push open the glass doors of the hospital.
I’m in a city.
Back to walking.
I find a gas station.
Sickened by the smell.
Get a map.
Leave the city.


43. Remembering
I arrive in the suburbs.
I sit on a newly made, smooth curb.
Pull the envelope out of my pocket.
Open it slowly.
Savoring this moment.
There are pictures in it.
And some money.
I know that it’s as much as she could spare.
Two pictures are from when I was living with her.
I look sad in the first of them.
Tired from travel.
Sick, thin, dirty.
The second is both of us.
I look healthy.
Happy.
And so does she.
I can see my arm at the side of it.
From trying to reach out with the camera.
There are three others.
At the hospital.
One of them was taken by a nurse.
My face and arms are still bandaged.
We’re sitting together on my bed.
Watching game shows.
The second one is just her.
In a store.
Holding up a pair of sneakers.
The ones on my feet.
It makes me laugh.
I can hear the echoes going down the quiet street.
The last picture is perfect.
It was when they took off the bandages on my face.
The old woman is standing beside me.
Her hand on my shoulder.
I’m staring into the mirror.
Not at my own reflection.
But hers.
She has the look of a mother on her face.
Relieved to finally know that I’m okay.
I’m smiling.
In the picture and while sitting on the curb.
Tears are sliding down my face again.
I don’t try to stop them.