In the hospital, I thought celebrities were trying to communicate with me through the television. Now, I know it’ just my grandma. I met a lady in there who told me what she was trying to do — Soothe me, rock me to sleep, so now whenever I’m restless at night I wrap my arms around myself and rock back and fourth. It helps — sometimes. What helps me the most, though, is the dog. He gives me signs that everything’s okay. Right now he’s squeaking his school bus toy, which makes me think he’s protecting her.
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Fuzzy.
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We’re still trying to find Fuzzy.
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I had a dream about her. She was walking along a road in the dusk, holding her thumb out to hitch a ride to her hometown. The sky beamed with lightening and a school bus drove by — a warning. A white van drove by just before she placed her stone cold thumb back into her coat’s wooden pocket. She was expecting it to rain, but the sky only smiled. She came to a stop as a train was passing through the railway, and she knew she was safe.
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I know I have to keep taking my medication for the next year. I’m scared for the next year. I’m scared for tomorrow. I don’t know where to go and the boy who might be able to light the way only lives in my head right now, for he is lost himself. I hope he finds himself soon. I hope we find each other soon. When we do, we’ll board a one way train to our perfect world.
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And in the mornings, the palms will sing to us in the breeze, and the waves will accompany them by crashing into the bay. The hemp wick will settle upon the leaves in his bowl, the one that I washed out with rock salt the previous night, and he’ll inhale, and I’ll look at him like he is a living art installation. I will mix herbs into my eggs and my nose will bask in the scent of them as the pan sizzles from above my hold. The laundry will dance from the line in the backyard, motivated by a distant beach.
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And we will be a butterfly.
Free, wild and untamed, just like her hair.
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