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Show 38 I look around me with my recently-returned ability to hold up my head. There is no one else in the courtyard. My neck is not pricking with the beginnings of embarrassment. Evan is picking up the pens from the dirt and removing their caps. It is grey skyward and will probably rain soon, but here in the courtyard I only notice the daffodils that have recently bloomed. This is a fine yellow day. "Doctors who do not listen," I say. Evan writes my words in red on the paper. "Nurses who forget I have not moved in hours," Again he writes in red. "I missed my daughter's school program." This goes on in blue. "The nurse who didn't read my allergies list and gave me Demerol and itchy blisters all over." In red. "Being a guinea pig." In red. "Hy and I rarely talk any more." Mordechai is my husband's name. His nickname goes up in blue. "I don't have fun anymore." He picked up the yellow pen for this. |
