"How are you feeling today?"
"Great, thanks. How are you?"
For the past few months, I have showered every day and eaten at least twice. I paint in the morning then take a walk in the afternoon, before reading in the courtyard. It is colder now, but I still read outside, under a blanket that mother gave me. I do this every day but I don't mind. It makes me happy.
"I'm fine. Thank you for the painting. I love the colours."
She is talking about the painting I did for her, of the tree in the courtyard, using my new watercolours that I got for my birthday. It was shedding leaves. Red ones, orange ones, brown ones. It was like it was on fire, but in a good way. Safe, warm, reassuring.
"So you truly feel better?"
"Yes. I'm happier than I've been in a long time. I like being here now. They've started to let me have hardbacks and I get to do what I want. Within reason though. Nothing stupid."
She laughs.
"That is great to hear."
"One thing though: I would like to see my family. I want to know whether they liked the paintings I've been sending them. They say in their letters they do, but I want to hear it personally, you know?"
"Of course. I'll ask around, see if I can organise that."
"Thanks. If they need convincing, just tell them that I said I feel happier than I have in years. That should persuade them to come."
"I'm sure they'd love to see you, especially after all the progress you've made."
I smile and when she goes to leave later on, I shake her hand and give her a small hug, which she returns. I think about painting a portrait of her, with the old office we used to meet in in the background and it makes me hopeful.
And so she leaves.
YOU ARE READING
Ups and Downs
General FictionIan has depression. He feels pretty hopeless and doesn't know how he's going to cope with any of it.
