Knitting

I'm knitting even though my hands are still. I read and try to watch the television in the far corner of the room. It's just far enough for the sound to come in disjointed waves; a crashing crescendo of music, disjointed dialogue as the heroine shouts "I can't find...." and a man runs past ".....the wall!", more screaming and a final shot of the heroine's terrified face before the credits start. All the time I'm knitting as fast as I can.

I lose interest in the television, it's only the news and I am locked into my world. What happens outside these walls is of no interest to me. I turn to look out of the window, still knitting, and watch the lonely tree in the courtyard as it shakes out its' leaves in the breeze. I feel for that tree. It is surrounded by tall, grey walls punctuated by windows at regular intervals. Some of the windows have curtains drawn across them, others have vases crammed with bright flowers on the sill. One or two have people looking out like folorn prisoners. Are they admiring the tree's bravery as I am? It stretches upwards, spindly in it's effort to reach the light of the sky, it's crown of leaves first green, then silver, as a breeze ruffles through them like a mother's hand through a child's hair. Still I am knitting.

A sound of footsteps, a visitor! I turn towards the door, hopeful and still knitting. A large and cheerful lady is stood there. No, she can't be here to see me. Still I knit, not missing a stroke even as I swallow my disappointment. I'm lonely and would be grateful for any visitor, even a stranger. Suddenly more people crowd the door and the ward fills with visitors. We all perk up in our beds, reviving like wilted flowers after a shower of rain. My bed is suddenly surrounded by family bearing gifts and scents of fresh air and breezy good humour. My brother can't resist playing with the weights attatched to my broken leg, suspended in the air and encased with plaster. As I tell him to leave it alone and reassure my mother that I'm fine; no, my leg doesn't hurt; thank you for the magazines and no, I haven't been lonely because the ward is very busy and we're all good friends, I knit even harder than ever so my leg will heal. I'm more than ready to go home!