The Unwelcome Guests
At first I wrote them off as a startling nuisance, like the random couple who barged into my apartment one Saturday. I heard the key fumbling in the lock, two voices in the hall.
Entries by Life After Lamictal
After the Accident
In line with Sue at Einstein’s Bagels, the place echoed as if to say I wasn’t well enough to be there. I recall the overwhelming scent of hazelnut coffee. People staring.
The ER
Sue would see “Lincoln Park Hospital” on the caller ID and let it go to voicemail, and she did. Who knew if she was even still awake?
Curbside Service
I sat on the curb, a block from home and so far from it. The man who hit me was there, asking how I was. He was gentle, kind. I couldn’t even hate him, and I wanted to.
The Lead Up
When the bus didn’t leave, I knew destiny was in play. It’s one of those things, like missing a plane. You wonder, why did I miss it?
The Accident
I was half way across the street before my life changed. I couldn’t see the car, just two blinding headlights set an ungodly width apart. Their whiteness barreled toward me with no sign of slowing.
The Promise
I still pray in the bath. Out of habit now, not out of necessity. Once a place becomes a shrine it stays that way forever.