Yesterday, I put my plan into action. I went to the store and bought ice packs, bandaids, tissues, hand heater packs, light sticks, flashlights, wipes, gauze, gloves, and bags.
The air felt heavy and unbreathable. The lights, too bright.
The sounds of shoppers, bells, and carts were deafening.
They didn’t have what I wanted. I panicked and walked away. I felt my chest heave as it tried to get in any kind of air. My ears felt like they were about to pop. I kept walking, but finally returned to the aisle.
I stared at the supplies, interrogating them with my eyes as if they would tell me what to buy. I picked them one by one and carried them around for what seemed like ages. They sank marks into my skin and made my arm sore. They fell out of my hands again and again. I didn’t care. I had them now. I was in control.
I took them home and broke them open. I made neat little piles and organized them perfectly into little sealed baggies and stuffed them to make kits to give away.
I say they are for other people, and they will be, but right now they are for me.
They are sitting there in the corner, perfect and ready… waiting to be given on March 25th. Little bags of healing. Tokens of a year of recovery. Hope in a bag.