breathe it in

She never got to be a child. She spent her teens tending to her mother as she died. Running back and forth between her full time job and the hospital. Even now in her early 20's she fends for herself in a way that is very a-cultural. She works full time. She pays her own rent. From my somewhat removed position i judge what's left of her family. They are manipulative (i declare). They only want what they can get out of her (i surmise). How can they be so consumed with their own desires that they use her like that (i judge).

In her short life she has experienced more expectation, anger, judgement, manipulation, injustice, sickness and heart-break than anyone ever should.

She is strong and mostly silent. She's the aloof sort of cool. That person that you want to like you (ya know what i mean?). Cause you want to know her, and be counted among the short list of people she trusts. For a thousand reasons you want to know her, and as if they weren't enough than for no other reason than because it seems impossible.

And then i find myself sitting next to her hospital bed. On day one i'm full of questions and conflicting emotions. By day day 5 she's doing remarkably better. She is receiving great treatment and is slowly getting better. 

And slowly the armor comes off. The thick shield she wears around her heart. The defense that she has used for 20 yrs to keep the worst of the heart ache at bay. It is melting away, and i see her. 

I see the talkitive teenager that she never got to be. I see the pride that she keeps buried. I see how successful and creative and entrepreneurial she is. I catch a glimpse of what lies inside of her. I catch a glimpse of the bright future that i fully believe is hers. For a sacred and beautiful hour, as i sit by her hospital bed i catch a glimpse. 

And i breathe it in deeply