Caragh Taylor
Stories (1/0)
An Introspective
About a year ago, in January, I was sat on a train destined for London’s Denmark Hill. There is a hospital there. It is not far from the station and hugely imposing, with corridors so expansive one could easily become lost (and I regularly would). It had been a wonderful Christmas; wonderful, blissful happiness accompanied by a wonderfully blissful sense of ignorance and, I suppose, a youthful hope. In truth, I did not even know that anything could (or indeed would) be wrong. I met my parents at the hospital and, later that day, after confused faces blurred into one tear-marred mirage, a doctor finally decided to admit my mother into the hospital indefinitely. Then, my dad and I drove home, stopping at a restaurant to eat. It was a Saturday night and it was busy and loud, with people simply being wonderfully and blissfully happy. It was an overwhelming typical Saturday night.
By Caragh Taylor6 years ago in Families