 |
| This glass-blowing priceless artefact is still on her shelf. |
Icey floor too slippery for me to take. Falling to my knees on the floor once. Forcing oneself to get the steps in.
A step-dad's old friend.
Eighty-two, that was her age. Mine thirty-three. Her opportunities are running out, yet I did the best to comfort her, showing my presence as all the icy un-walkable crud I had to get through.
With a showing of my cartooning portfolio and character designs, coffee and one sugar. Her leg was going to get surgery as there was so much metal in it. After a series of falls, I encouraged her to get the muscles of her legs moving again.
Creamy beige dreams of the walls, that still remains and a carer of a low-functioning autism patient in her fifties. I remember her squeaks when I was twelve. Herself jumping about. Time really does move forward.
A reminder of the worst my disability has to offer.
She was within tears when I left. That's enough motivation. Family motivation to proceed onwards. To crack down on my project right now.
Finals year a wish over the ice.