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She draws something that looks like a flame atop a candle.
Or maybe a cupcake.
Or maybe a gnome, my husband says.

And I stitch it,
not wondering so much about
what the drawing represents
as I wonder if she ever feels
trapped
or imprisoned
inside her disability.

Last summer
I got a call that Nancy
was peeling off her clothes.
“She’s having a hot flash,” I said.
“Lord knows, when I have a hot flash,
I’d love nothing more than to pull off my
clothes.”

And sometimes I wonder if maybe I’m the one
who’s imprisoned
inside my so-called ability,
with all my layers of
culturization
and education . . .

~~~~~~~~~

She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.