I used to try to get out of the bed.
When I was in the nursing home, I learned there were very different rules in there.
And I tried to get out of bed back when I had a feeding tube, they made me wear a diaper, and I laid in a bed most of the day.
I wanted out.
My family visited and made the best choices they could. But it didn’t stop me from ending up on the floor, night after night, in weak attempts to find my way home.
Laying on the floor, in the dark, waiting on someone to come help me, I would look out the door.
Some days I remember the way I felt when I stared at that door. I can’t believe that I’m really home.
People forget how lucky they are.
Because somewhere someone is looking at a door and wishing they were somewhere else.