My Daughter Called Me From A Hospital Bed

where no one knew her story.

She went to therapy. She started painting again. First, dark, abstract colors. Then, slowly, light began to creep back in. Sunsets. Fields of flowers. The things she used to love.

One afternoon, about a year later, I found her sitting on the porch of our new little house, sketching in a notebook.

She looked up at me and smiled.continue reading …