...I miss my hands and arms most of all.
If I could move my arms and flex my fingers, I'd have a much easier time operating the joystick on my wheelchair--my substitute legs. I'd be able to type QUICKLY in my text-to-speech program--my substitute voice.
I'd feed myself, wash myself, adjust my own bra straps, put on makeup, swat bugs, sign my name, raise and lower my bed's raise-able and lower-able parts. Put toothpaste on my toothbrush, lotion on my arms, polish on my nails.
I'd sneak snacks to Stella, then snuggle and squish her satiny, sherpa-like curls. Brush my hair out of my face and tuck it behind my ear. I'd stretch my arms waaayy ooovver my head. And rest my cheek in the palm of my hand.
I'd hug back and hold tight.
This is a short list, but you get the idea.
5 days ago
5 comments:
It's amazing the things we take for granted. I won't anymore.
Aren't you the lady. Nary a word about flipping the bird or masturbating.
I'm not fooling anybody, am I?
Do not give up, even if you are expired,
do not feel a slave, even if you are a slave
trembling with fear, think of yourself as bravo,
and rush fiercely, even if you are badly wounded.
Have the tenacity of a rusty nail, even old and mean, returns to be a nail;
not the cowardly stupidity of the turkey which lessens their feathers at the first sound.
Proceed as God who never cries;
or Lucifer, who never prays;
or as the oak, whose greatness
water needs, but it does not beg for it...
May your badly hurt head be biting and avenging thunders, rolling in the dust...
This poem sounds much better in Spanish, but that's what you are to me.
Love,
SS&B
Hahahahaha!!!!
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