Everything is still yet moving continuously. The loud drops of fluid, the staccato beats of a foreign machine. You hear her intakes of breath–slow and uneven. As you realize the inconsistency of it, you wonder who this woman is and what she is doing here. The silence is deafening as you cautiously step closer to the moments you’ve been dreading.
The details of her face become more visible as your body follows your legs towards where she lay peacefully. You search for ways to try to escape but your legs insist on moving. There is something about her that makes her distinguishable from others, but to put a finger on it is quite difficult. Concealing the chaotic serenity surrounding her are eyelids under which you can see the flickering movements of her corneas. The area of the woman’s eyes consists of noticeable dark circles and sunken in her head are this pair of eyes. Her cheeks are so sucked in that it almost seems deliberate. You are aware yet unaware of what is around you and all that your eyes are focused on are this woman.
Memories–they come flooding your mind, steadily. Distant and bubbly laughter starts to fill your mind and you start to see the woman again. Her smile is ebullient, the light of a thousand suns. She extends her arms out to you in a gesture to show affection and engulf you in her embrace. Following the distant laughter, you start to hear a warm sound. The singing of your favorite song. The sweet notes of a hummingbird cannot compare to this voice. The voice that holds the song of her natural symphony. You smell her familiar scent that was only hers.
In the midst of this surge of memories, you nervously reach your hand out towards hers. As your fingers slip in between this woman’s, her hand abruptly squeezes yours and her eyes open wide. The harsh grip on your hand does not falter. Your mind is consumed by this storm of memory–the thunder, the lightning, the wind blowing thoughts around your head and droplets of rain powerfully hitting you. Scanning the room, your eyes take in the bedside table, the lone chair, the still curtains, and the beam of sunlight. Your gaze follows the beam and ends up on her face, yet again. As your eyes lock with this woman’s, the storm in your head finally finds its way out.