It’s almost time to go. The skin is marked, the risks recited, the papers signed. The day dawns unnoticed except for the few who wait for it, flushing the hospital walls with a thin wash of rose. Time to surrender, time to let go.
It’s snowing in the mountains at home. Thick feet of snow cresting the trees. I try to imagine myself there, spread softly amongst it’s drifts. I am ready.