Home for Good

JJBadding · Newbie Joined: Jan 06, 2015 Posts: 1 Status: **Offline**

Home for Good

The sheets below me and the blanket above me keep me warm. I have grown used to their touch, their embrace. These past several months in this place, in this position, have made me grow accustomed to their feel. The constant beeping, it too, has transformed into an annoying, caressing lullaby. That is all I know of this world I now live in. Darkness covers my vision, and I cannot see anything. Not the tile floor below me, the curtain beside me, nor the faces that visit me. The beeping and the warmth is my home.

I never knew I would call where I am now home. Yet, I guess, like that phrase always says, a home is where you have family and live. Well, these faceless people are my family. This is place where my boots patiently wait by the door. Home is where you make it. I, of all people, should understand this. Once, home was my car by a park. That was home because I had my family. That is all you need. That is all I needed.

I hope that one day I can walk out of this place. Put my boots on, and walk out that door. Even though I cannot see, I can still hear. I could never handle tears, and everyone who visits cries. That one weakness, I thought I would grow out of, but unfortunately, over the years, has grown. When her eyes start to fill with tears, I have to walk away in fear of crying myself. She, of all people, can make me vulnerable and cry the easiest without even trying. She comes to visit me and brings the flowers I adore. She sets them on the table my by side, runs her fingers through my hair, and kisses my forehead. How I wish I could hug her; I just want to tell her I love her one more time. Soon, I can feel it, soon, I will be able to go home, and she will not have to worry about me anymore.

Soon, I can feel it in my heart, in my deepest being; that I will walk out of here with my Mother and my childhood friend by my side. Soon, I will finally be at my last home for a very long time. It has taken me several months in order to feel comfortable about thinking about going home. For months, I have been waiting for results, for answers about my condition. At first, when my Mother first told me that I could leave this place, I was terrified to go. Out of ignorance, I did not understand that she was telling me that I was going to go home. She has helped calm me and reassure me that everything would be alright.

The beeping continues. That sound, when I first rolled in here, evilly kept me awake. Now it serves as a tie to the world around me. It keeps me grounded and aware of who enters, and who exits. The fall of footsteps rhythmically match the beeping of the machine next to me. It takes a moment to realize, that the fall of footsteps did not pass my door, but in fact, they entered. I can faintly hear the squeak of the tennis shoes hitting the cold tile floor. They rest by the side of my bed, and I can feel the towering presence, and the warmth of a body next to me. It is he. It is my best friend who came to visit me once again. I can hear the slide of a wooden chair and the cushions exhale as a body falls into them. A warm hand holds my hand. I wait for him to speak, to have his magical voice caress me once more. I love his voice. It comforts me, it protects me, and it makes me feel warm on the inside. She would call them butterflies.

He was my first love. I loved him as a child, but unfortunately, as I grew, my love started to fade. Yet, throughout the years, as habit, I continued to talk to him every night and tell him of my day. Once you have a first love, they will never truly leave your heart. Even though I did not love him, he was still my best friend, and my best protector. Without him, I would not be here today.

One night, I was so cold. Nothing could warm me. Not the fire that crackled beside me, or the heavy jacket I was wearing on a summer night, not even my daughters face. I wanted to leave, to run away, to escape and never come back. I wanted to depart from this reality, this world, and enter a new one. I saw the fire and thought: I cannot even feel the warm it emits, then surely I will not feel any pain. Slowly, I inched my way closer to the fire. Soon, I felt a piece of warm wood under my fingertips. I started to slide my hand under the wood, closer to the heart of the fire. Out of nowhere, without any warning, my best friend was beside me. I guess I was so enchanted by the power of the fire that I did not hear his footsteps on the gravel. When he grasped me by the arms, I was emotionally, physically, and mentally drained. If I fought him, I could have thrown myself into the fire. If I would have ignored his gentle presence, I would have succeeded. However, with his quiet urging, I let him pull me away from the fire. He sat down next to me and told me to talk, to tell him everything. I looked down at the ground before me, avoiding his gaze. Without thinking, I vomited words on the ground. I told him of being raped and having to take care of that girl by myself, having to quit school, losing my job, losing my house, and I told him no one cared. I told him everything. He and I looked at the words at the ground for a while, neither one of us daring to whisper a word a break the silence. I was fighting back tears, and he must have seen the struggle on my face. He came closer, and held me tight. I cried on his shoulder for a good long while. By the time the tears subsided, his shirt was soaked in salty tears. He then leaned back slightly and lifted my chin. He looked straight into my soul with those piercing sky blue eyes. He told me that everything would be ok, and he will always be there for me, in rain or shine. His words covered me, like a blanket. Instantly I felt warm once again. He helped me stand up, picked up my little girl and took care of us from then on. He stayed true to his word; he was there for us rain or shine. He helped me find a job, find a house, and live a happy life.

That was years ago, when she was just a couple years old. Now, she is ten and she is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Most parents say that, but she has helped me stay motivated. She has pushed me to be better, to give her a better life, to give us a better life. I cannot imagine my life without her. Even though we have our moments when we fight and the bills become tough, I still would not trade her for anything. It terrifies me that at one point I thought of killing her. When she was still in my womb, when her father raped me, I thought I would kill her to make my life easier. Who knew that keeping her has made my life easier to live than I even imagined. She makes life worth living. I would do anything to make her happy, and soon, I will. Soon, I will be able to go home and I know that will cheer up her heart.

He still sits by me, just holding my hand. How I wish he would not leave. The time passes slower when he is not next to me. His hand is a comfort. His hands show the wear and tear of someone who worked on his life, yet, they are gently enough to wipe the tears of the face of a suicidal girl.

When I first entered this place, I was scared of leaving, but he and my Mother calmed me. My mother calmed me by telling me how wonderful it would be to go home and to live again. He calmed me by telling stories. He knows, oh my goodness, he knows how much I love stories. Several nights, when I could not sleep, he would come in and tell dozens of stories about my life and how amazing I am. I think his favorite was the one of my adopted grandfather.

It was pouring one day on my way to work. The windshield wipers were going as fast as they could, and even then, they could not squeak across the glass fast enough the make it visible to drive any faster than thirty miles per hour. Suddenly, on the side of the road, I saw an old man. I felt this gnawing feeling at my gut, and I just knew I had to pull over. I had no logical explanation, except that it felt like the right thing to do. In the world we live in, however, women get raped daily by "homeless" and homeless guys like to kill. Yet, unexplainably, I had to stop. He walked cautiously to the passenger door, and asked quietly for a ride to town. I flashed him a smile and told him yes. As he climbed in, I could not help acknowledging his ratted clothing and the aroma that flowed off him that warned he had not had a good shower in months. For the first several minutes, neither one of us spoke. Then, gently, I asked who he was. His name was Steven. He was a Marine. He was 76 years old. He had no home. He had no family. No company wants an old man. He lost his house because he could not pay all the bills. He told me stories of his youth, of his family, and especially, of his Chelsea. As crazy as it sounds, it felt like he was an honest man who was trust worthy. He felt right. As we neared his destination, the gnawing feeling returned. It took me several minutes to realize the purpose this time. I turned to the old man, looked him straight in the grey eyes and told him that he was going to live with me. His bearded jaw dropped and he stared at me. I could tell in his eyes he did not understand, and he wanted to decline the request. I told him that he served our country, he probably saved my life numerous times, he deserved a house to live in and besides, I had an extra room. I saw I had broken all different forms of debate. He caved in. He is the best grandfather my little girl has ever had. He is the best grandfather that I have ever had. I know when I go home, he will take care of my little girl for me.

I think, after the grandfather story, my best friend likes to remind me of the story of my friend. After my suicide attempt, I figured everyone needs a smile to brighten up his or her day. I started smiling at random people and I loved seeing their faces light up. One day, when I was in the store, there was this lady, about my age, who looked worn out. She was wearing a red jacket and her hair was in a messy ponytail. I smiled and waved at her. She gave me a puzzled and confused wave back. Seeing as how my smile did not work, I walked up to her and started to chat. Within a few minutes, I had her laughing and smiling again. During our chat, I discovered that her name was Susan and she was having a tough day, well, actually, a difficult year. I casually told her of my experiences, gave her some advice, and told her some more corny jokes my daughter loves to hear. As the conversation grew to a close, she gave me a hug. Since that day, we became best friends. I love her to death. It scares me to think that she was in the same position I was in. She could have gone through with suicide, and left her son by himself. She now smiles at passing strangers and talks to them. I wonder how many lives we have saved in the process.

It is scary to think, that one little thing could have changed the whole future. If I had committed suicide, I never would have adopted Grandpa. He would have died alone and forgotten. She would have lost all hope. And hope, I have learned, is one of the most sacred things. If you have hope, you can accomplish anything. If you lose hope, then you have lost all reason to live.

His fingers tickle as they move up the back of my hand, up my arm and rest on my shoulder. He leans over and tells me that it is time to go home. The results are in, and I am ready to go home. His touch, just like his voice, fills my soul. It is magical. I have not been able to move a muscle in months, yet with his touch, I am able to sit upright. Cautiously, I open my eyes. The first thing I see are those sky blue eyes I love so much. I then see the wooden door, the white tile floor, the cabinets that cover the small room and the colorful flowers and gifts that were left by my bedside. Just like a young girl, I toss my legs over the side of the bed and jump on the floor. I feel ten again. I cannot tell that I have been laying on my back for the past several months. With him by my side, I walk to the wooden door and put my boots on. I am finally going to walk out of this place and go home. I glance over my shoulder, back to the bed, and see a healing bruised face and a broken body from a car crash. The beeping has turned into one high note. I do not care. I do not have to listen to it any more. He puts his hand in the small of my back and puts a little pressure, which indicates it is time to leave.

As I enter the hallway, I see my little girl staring at the floor. For a second, I am scared she is crying, but instead, I see a smile across her face. She knows I am going home. I taught her well. I look up and see my Mother waiting for me. She grabs me by the arm and escorts me down the hall. He follows behind me. As we exit through the grey doors, we enter a bright room. I see other people, who are just as excited as I to go home. My Mother looks at me and tells me I must wait a little longer. I must stay here to be cleansed, but then, I will be able to go home for good. This waiting room, even though I cannot go home yet, is the greatest news I have received. It means I did not go down; if I went down, I would never have the butterflies ever again. Here, I have those and that warm feeling I always get when he is near, and I never want to lose those feelings. If I did not have these feelings, I would truly die. My soul would always thirst and ache for warmth. With the news I have received, I jump up and down, excited by the news. I am almost home. I give her a giant hug, and tell her I will see her soon. Home. Soon, I will be home for good.

"Home For Good," (c) 2011, Jennifer Badding. All rights reserved. Reprinted by Guardianangelstore.com with permission. Requests to reprint this story may be sent to the copyright owner via Guardianangelstore.com. Requests may be sent via email to info.guardianangelstore.com.