Visitors || Open
[Perrie sat in his hospital bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. The TV was off, and he wasn’t allowed to move to turn it on just yet. He was told he would be allowed to get out of bed and move around in a few days after some more tests had been conducted and things were looking better. For now, all he could do was hope someone would visit him soon, because he’d already slept the majority of the day and he didn’t want to spend the few hours he’d be awake staring at the wall or out the window. He was bruised all over, and a bandage covered his broken nose while a respirator covered his mouth. Luckily, his skin was no longer blue, though it still looked abnormally pale. A nurse knocked on the door before poking her head in. “Mister Curtis, someone’s here to visit you,” she announced. Perrie smiled a small, weak smile, happy to know someone was here.]
When Cosette woke, pale morning light was steaming in through the windows of her bedroom. She stretched a little, then swung her legs over the side of the bed, pleasantly surprised to find a pair of house shoes there for her, along with a note on the bedside table. At first, she was disappointed because it was from Sarah, but the contents quickly dispelled that disappointment. The master, she said, had taken leave for the morning so that he could take her to the hospital, if she pleased, to visit her father and see if he was at all better. Breakfast was waiting for her downstairs, and as soon as she had dressed, she should find the master.
She eagerly slipped on her bedgown and hurried downstairs, where she found Sarah waiting with a bit of fruit pie and, of course, bread and cheese. She would not have cared if it were dirt. Her head ached a little, but what did that matter, either? She was going to see Papa! Nothing mattered besides that, not to her.
“Bon matin,” she said cheerfully when she sat down, all smiles for the kindly maid who at last had a job to do other than dusting. “Thank you for the slippers.” While she was the kind of girl to go barefoot most of the time—if she could help it—mornings could be cold, with no fires in the hearth yet, and she appreciated that the older woman thought of such things for her. She pulled a piece off of the bread and began eating rather too quickly
A Thursday theme
Sometimes I think of my children as indefinite visitors in my house. I feed them, I teach them but they inevitably make most of their own decisions. I try not to go this far out in the future in my thoughts, but three of them will leave my house to make ALL of their own decisions one day. One child will not. She will certainly leave the house in her own time but not by her own choice.
My children are visitors that live in MY world. I’m constantly showing them the world in which WE ALL live. When really, their world is so much better. It’s beautiful and fun and lively. They keep bringing me into their world and it’s nice there. I’d like to stay there. I’m THEIR visitor. I come and go as I please. I am always welcomed. They make decisions for me and it’s difficult sometimes to let them.
You see, we are both the visitor and the host. It’s which world we have to figure out we are living in at any given moment to determine who is the visitor and who is the host. It’s the world that changes and therefore changes us and how we act. We are capable of change. All we have to do is look around and see our world or theirs and we know. We just know. And it is beautiful. Won’t you come and join me?