Group A. 'Saudade' Megan Turner

March 16^th – I’m sad to leave my house. My home. I’ve grown to know it as I’ve grown to know myself over all these years, down to every crevice in the walls, as I slide my hand over the pale surface like an old friend’s face. My old cracked painting of two children, a girl and a boy, playing hoopla together. The warm cosy fire - every creaky floorboard is comfort. The ghosts that haunt me here - but how I have grown to love the memories, bathe in them, bad and good. Because they are all lessons. Making us all stronger. And now, one of the strongest things I’ve had to do, although it sounds pitiful, perhaps even pathetic in comparison to previous encounters, is to leave my safe place, the only place I truly know anymore.

I still struggle with independence. I have used my last drops of energy to do things for myself, my own housework, laundry, wash myself, dress myself…I am an adult. And how degrading for circumstances to be any different. My body is weak like a delicate butterfly. Although I didn’t see it back then, I was once as beautiful as a butterfly. And had the freedom to fly away when I wanted to as well. Now all that remains is the feebleness that has possessed my shell.
I stare out of my frosted window for one last time, and leave.

I arrive at Annie Manor. So many others just like me, staring at me. It reminds me of my first day at the post office. Luck was on my side since so many people during that time were on a desperate struggle for work and walking in late to see all those timid eyes, in exactly the same position as me. Scared, bewildered, frightened. Maybe even concerned for their destiny. Succeeding. Failing. I wouldn’t be so concerned with that here. I have already reached my future, I am now simply riding the aftermath. But those eyes, like a herd of deer in the lights of an oncoming car. Unsettling.

Greeted by a small Spanish girl, very pretty with dark eye makeup that enhances her dark green eyes and bright white teeth that seem to sparkle even in the dim light, I am shown to my room where my belongings are mostly out of boxes and arranged for me by my daughter. Sitting down on my bed, my furniture is here but it is not the same room. I feel lost, apprehensive…trapped.