What I Wish I Were - Chris Callaghan

In the Valley Hospital mental health ward there are many choices of who to be.
I lie in my bed facing the wall and pick through them like Tarot cards.

Bess, who is eternally the gracious hostess at her own house party. Six foot, fat Mark, who is the disrupter – throwing his shoes at other patients and banging a bed pan and screaming when he needs more attention than throwing shoes will bring. Edger, who insists that Bill Gates is his best friend and confidant. He combs his regal white hair constantly.

Dr. Ortega, who watches over us all benignly and knows which buttons to push on the security lock to get in and out. Elvin, the orderly who is big enough to subdue Mark, yet writes out our name tags in a delicate script. Maggie the nurse, who gives us our meds and will stand patiently for five minutes or more making sure we’ve swallowed them down. And me, no longer the young woman I was last week, or the grandmother I was the week before. Today, I don’t want to be any of the others or myself. Today I’d like to be the earth. I can feel trees rooting in me, worms tunneling, aerating my soil, birds flying over my crust. Maybe next week I’ll be a bird. Maybe next week I’ll be out.