A Blog About Living with Mental Illness
Time falls around me like broken glass, glinting in the sun. Memories reflect off the shards, twisting, turning.
I remember you in a warm glow. A laugh, a smile, a red ribbon in your curly blonde hair, you were flying on our hill.
Then you were gone again.
She met you for the first time in 1999, on that hill, 14 years before you were finally born. She had waited for you to arrive. Four times she waited, but each face that came belonged to another.
Fate eventually brought you though, in its perfect way. She met you, before she died. She held your tiny hand and knew you were safe, knew you would take on anything the world would throw out, she was so proud.
My little ghost, I ache when I see your face as you look just like her. I see her eyes in yours and I grieve a loss I can’t describe. One day we’ll meet her again, atop our sacred hill and we’ll fly together into the wind, red ribbons in our hair.
Time falls around me like broken glass, glinting in the sun. Memories reflect off the shards, twisting, turning, disappearing beneath me as though they were never there.