The Angel Woman

They’re asking me now to start taking steps, baby steps even. I feel like I’m a small child all over again and this is a big scary world and I should be holding onto my Mommy’s hand! My mom, where is she? Does she know? Why has she not come here, has she snuck in under the veil of darkness and sat at my bedside unbeknownst to me? It seems like I’ve been here for days now, weeks, endless amounts of time. That Angel of a woman washed my hair this morning and I couldn’t be more grateful and thankful for the sheer fact that it now no longer stinks like vomit, urine or death; nor does it feel like straw from a scarecrow used in a…