But I’ve had glimpses of more ‘stability’ at times this year. So, I pulled up to the grass and took it all in. The green grass, my beautiful brave tulip tree, my stairs, the curved sidewalk. I looked down (very carefully as to not provoke an episode) and I studied those stairs. I imagined what my feet used to look like gliding down them many times a day to take children to parks and schools and grocery stores. To garden. I loved growing food. And around this time every year, I would leave bags on neighbors porches. I closed my eyes and I heard my daughter walk up. My senses have become so attuned past 6 years. People talk about it here. I can tell who someone is by their footsteps alone.
“Mama, what are you doing?”
Me: “dreaming of what it’s like to be outside again”
She’s never seen me outside beyond ambulance stretchers. She has no memories of our pre- this way life when I could dance with her and hike with her on my back… and so many beautiful things.
And then she smiled. And then I smiled. And then I played this song and stared at the sidewalk I had poured when she was an infant. I still remember the large snake the workers found. He was living underneath my front step the entire time…every step I took up and down with my baby or son …and yet I never knew. Snakes are sneaky like that.