Below are responses to #5, Write on each of the following prompts… in SECTION ONE, “The Beginning,” of the Writing From Within: A Journey of Healing and Empowerment e-workbook:
When I left home from work I set out to have an open day. Open mind. Phone on mute. Silence, but the mind, loud. Filled with thoughts. Fingertips at the ready. Heartstrings untied. Not wound up. Here I am. Where am I? In my feelings. In my memories. In my space. Feels lovely. Welcome home, I feel like a long-lost visitor. The old bed and breakfast by the countryside. That's where I want to be. Reacquainted to the quaint. I can almost touch the lived-in, warm, and cozy parts of my once-in-a-lifetime, never-to-be-lived again life.
I love the current version of my life, but everything is transitioning. It's scary yet needed and peculiarly welcomed. What’s ahead? I give myself permission. I'm writing feverishly right now. No longer will I lock whatever was of me away out of fear of what may become of me. This is life now. Open road.
When I Arrived at Work They…
When I arrived at work they said hi in a sing-songy voice, almost in unison, and then resumed their work activities. The young preceptees with their concerned expressions, the mid nurses with their contented faces, and the seasoned nurses with their assured faces. Familiar. Expected. Predictable. Structured. Stable. Reliable. All good feelings. “My home away from home.”
I left my family-filled home to go to a different dimension’s version of home, but with the same clock’s second-hand just as busy and ticking away. My home is the same on both sides of the world, it seems. I see my family’s faces. Can’t stop time. I see my patients’ faces. Still can’t stop it. I respect it. Time. It’s of the essence. Longevity. Eternity. That's something that can't be given to my patients or my family. I wish I could give them that. But all I can give them is the here and now. A temporary home filled with presents of prescience and presence. Hoping that for tonight, during my shift, at least the next 12 hours in this hospital room feels like home. Mi casa es su casa.
