Its been 2 years now, as I lay on my bed. The curtains drawn to let the sun in. The tulips bend to gaze outside the window while the curtains swing in the gentle breeze while I'm still lying there, frozen. Looks like Renee stayed the night, her bag and shawl on the chair. I guess she's gone to freshen up after sleeping over. I miss her.

The memory though painful plagues me everyday as I lie on my bed with the monitor deciphering my every heart beat, respiratory rate and so on. The night, the car, the street, the drink, all flash with the last flashback leaving me here at John Hopkins, the same place I had been to when Renee was born.

I guess my carelessness has troubled my poor baby, but she forgives me for the same. I strained to listen to what she said when it all happened. Her prayer, urging God to take pity on me and to give her back her father. I wished I could caress her hair and tell her everything would be okay. But I couldn't.

My room, is pretty bland save the flowers and the brown sofa. The bed is hard to say the least, its hard exterior covered by the blue dotted sheet. I can't say much about the floor. Haven't set foot on it in the past two years. The TV blares on, Renee set it to the news for me, even though she hates watching it herself.

Everything seemed peaceful, Renee and me, but when would I return back home with her. Renee comes back. There are tears in her eyes. Poor baby, my baby, I love you. The doctor and the nurse follows. They say their sorry, but for what? And then it hits me, they are going to take me off the ventilator.

Suddenly fear grips me, how cant they? I need to live, if not for myself at least for Renee. She comes closer and hugs me, I scream, but all that comes out is silence. The nurse inches closer, the drips are the first to stop. Slowly and steadily they stop the machine.

And all I can do is close my eyes all the time screaming and bawling inside like a spoilt child, wanting to live, wanting to walk free, wanting to be with my baby. But alas all I can do, is lie frozen. With the monitor now silent and my spirit overlooking the entire scene.

4 comebacks:

Indian PjBoy said...

Ama *fucking* Zing. Loved each word of this piece.

Djarabia said...

Thank u... was thinkin abt this when i was in class... : ) kinda scary though...

findingmywingsinlife said...

Wow. You definitely have a gift for storytelling Djarabia.

Djarabia said...

thank u :)


Risus Sardonicus Design by Insight © 2009