1. Visiting hours
I walked through the automatic doors and briskly walked towards the front desk, not wanting to make anyone think I was staring at them. The woman sitting at the desk opened the glass window, and I whispered “I’m a visitor, for Tillie Mazze” She closed her eyes and nodded in sympathy, pointing to the hallway where Tillie was staying.
Approaching her door, I walked in, and have never been so touched by the sight I saw. She was using paints, but not on the canvas she was given. She was painting on her wall. “Oh Tillie!” I broke down, running and giving her a hug. “Bex! Do you like it?” She excitedly asked, throwing her arm in the air to show off her creativity. I started to cry “Yes Tillie, it’s beautiful!” I hugged her even tighter, not wanting to let her go. I took a step back wanting to get a good look at her. Holding onto her shoulders, I stared at her in her neon pink nightie with her drip attached to her arm. She looked so beautiful I gave her a tighter hug. I would never have thought my little sister would end up here.
I sat on her pale pink coloured floor which matched the walls and duvet colours. She was smiling at me with a really big grin and her eyes so wide open they looked like they were about to pop out of her head. “So…how are you holding up?” She quickly replied, still with her grin on her face “great!” I nodded my head, relaxing a bit and lying down “good…good…erm, why did you paint on your walls?” Tillie jumped to her feet, pointing to each part of the wall “This is the flower, to show feminism in the garden…and…and…the dove’s that are everywhere in the garden represent peace and the garden gnomes show that there is more to life than just reality, I feel they show that a wish can make your dreams come true!” my eyes watered with happiness, how she could be inspired so much to paint such a peaceful garden landscape on her wall.
I stood up and gave her another hug “You’re a beautiful artist Tillie!” I whispered in her ear. “Bex, why are you so emotional today? You never give me this much hugs! Tell me wha…ahhh!” she fell to her knees grabbing onto her stomach in pain. “Tillie!” I screamed holding her tight while pushing the red help button that was strapped around her neck on a necklace. She burst into tears, which I have never seen her do in a long while. The last time I seen her cry was 8 years ago, when she was 9 years old and she broke her leg falling of her roller skates. I rocked her back and forth holding back my tears, I whispered with a wobbly voice “you’re going to be ok, everything is going to be ok, think of the gnomes Tillie! Think of the gnomes!” I then burst into tears.