I’ll never take a shower for granted ever again.
Even though I’m sitting in a chair designed for the shower, I am so thankful that I can wash my own back after so many weeks of Alanna giving me a sponge bath. Just the thought of her has me reaching for the tap and turning it to cold.
I’ve not played the piano since the night I responded to her in ways other than with disgust, as I am afraid that it’ll happen again.
Music was my escape, but since the transplant, it’s been nothing but a burden.
Maybe my music came with an expiration date. I sometimes felt as if my defect of a heart is what made me special, so maybe now that I have a “normal” heart, the music has stopped.
But I know that’s not true.
Playing music with Alanna feet away, I felt “it.” I’ve never known what “it” was because
