Strange memories stay with you,

Little things that don't make sense at the time

But seem to have some odd permanence.

I remember the chair in the waiting room,

The way the armrest curved into the seat

But I can't remember who visited us.

I can still see my feet

As I squeak-slide down the ICU hallway,

But the details of the days escape me.

Did we eat?

Outrageous amounts of food

Pizza, casseroles, giant fruit baskets.

But food didn't interest me.

I couldn't even brush my teeth,

My hair,

Never saw a mirror.

It was bad.

Did people shuffle backwards when we got too close?

"Don't let Sam see you this way"--

That was their way to motivate

Didn't they know he couldn't see me?

He didn't even stir, not really.

Just the strange pulling in of limbs,

Mouth drooped down,

Tongue flat

Face curiously blank.

But it's not moving,

More like the breathing--

Strange and forced, being guided by strings.

So when medicine failed

To offer us hope,

We turned to superstition.

Crossing ourselves three times,

Touching his right foot, then left

Praying stretched out, forehead on the floor...

We were even scared to hope.

Don't be positive--

You're tempting fate.

Just dangle charms,

Strings and beads around his head.

Pin pictures of saints to his pillow

And hang crosses on the IV pole.

Wrap the rosary three times around the frog.

Hang it on the wall with a nail.

Right there.

That's perfect.

Every little thing might help.

Like the Voodoo Cracker

That lay at the bottom of the stairwell.

Sam clung to this world on the back

of the cracker.

We believed this.

Truly.

Don't step on it--

Don't touch it,

We would caution visitors,

Half kidding...

But not really.

Never explaining ourselves.

Never discussing the importance

of this charm.

It lay there until

It grew soft and white.

Then one day it just disappeared.

Thoughts like this stay with you,

Inconsequential things

Make up the bulk of you memories

When the other pictures

Are too horrible to bear.

---Rebecca Wolf