They say a person in a coma can hear voices around them, even though they can’t respond. They say maybe even touch and smell, and who knows, maybe the light the doctor shines in one eyeball and then the next. If there is a limbo, a place on the edge of hell that’s neither the living world nor an active purgatory, you’ve found it. It’s a place where you don’t have to sin to enter its dark waters. It just takes you, because you fell.
A few years ago, I thought that when they left, I’d have to become someone else. I tried to picture that person in my mind. Career Lady. Or maybe Writer Lady. Or Volunteer Lady. They all seemed too detached, too isolated, or too busy trying to fill my time with other people’s problems.
I had no idea, from inside my white picket fence existence, that I had already learned how to live in the world beyond our family’s front gate.