Maybe One Day

by Debbie Johnson

I’ve felt the scars it leaves when it’s snatched away, the pain that lives in the void of its absence.

But tonight, I have stayed up late, reading by the light of a full, silvered moon shining through my open curtains.

Hope that I never knew existed,

Hope. How did I ever live without it?

Nature is having a party,

By understanding that although her body was broken and her ability to communicate was compromised, she was still there,

I’d be lying if I said there weren’t moments where I dreamed of freedom, of being liberated from the scheduling and the carers and the hospital appointments and the constant awareness that I could never risk a spontaneous moment of my own.

I have that freedom, and it’s an unwanted gift that I’d quite like to return, unopened. Right now, the gift of freedom feels overrated, es...

I feel guilty that I ever wished for freedom.

I feel guilty that I feel relieved.

I’ll be even sadder if you don’t start living your own life again.’

When I was at home, I was busy.

I am free, yet I still feel trapped. The trap is imaginary;