i’ve been on an IV for the last two nights at Clinique Agdal in Fes. it started the other night thinking i was going to lose myself for good, holding on to my head with both hands, tears from midnight until dawn, waiting for medina life to begin again, and when it did i stepped in a cab and made my way to the emergency room.
it was an infection that spread.
with a bruise on my arm from the medical IV inside i started thinking of my father and six years of it being like this for him. as well as all the immigrants and poor folks piled into the Brooklyn emergency clinics. i thought of the strangest things, such as, ‘i wouldn’t mind working with the sick..i’d like to one day.’ (what! did i just say that?) I thought of unrelated and forgotten memories such as an old belt i made of blue bangles that wrapped around and fell over me. and i thought of the way she looked admiringly at it which surprised me as well as the way i was so unsure of the thing all together.
i wrote a story. i asked for paper and wrote until amanda had to go out and buy me a clean notebook. i wrote a story to my little girl about love. and i thought, that i love you. more today than yesterday. more now than ever.
i wish i could send you a real kiss you could really open in the mail.
i’m so happy to be able to write this and open letters from you. knowing your kicking and screaming, alive too.