Colors of Healing
The nurses pushed me in my wheelchair toward freedom. Eleven weeks in the hospital had felt longer than an eternity.
“You’re a miracle, Mrs. Oliver. Just take it easy once you go home. Your body still needs time to recuperate,” Jessa instructed as I looked away from her sickly blue scrubs. Two colors I would never miss again were blue and white, shades that used to be my favorites.
My son, Garrett, was waiting at the curb to drive me home. I noticed the silver flecks in his hair in the noonday light, and they surprised me. At 77, I knew that I was old, but I couldn’t imagine the same fate for the sticky-faced little boy who had been obsessed with model airplanes and epic games of Monopoly.
Arriving at my first-floor apartment, I let myself out of the car before Garrett could come around to help me.
“Mom,” he protested. “Don’t show off.”
I laughed. “Yes, doctor. Just head on home, sweetheart; I should probably get some rest.”
Garrett hugged me and then drove away slowly, looking back at me with uncertainty etched into every line of his face. Opening the door to my apartment, I held my breath, not expecting the stale odor that permeated the air. Garrett had been coming by once a week to take in my mail, but apparently that wasn’t enough to stop the place from becoming stuffier than a hospital room without air conditioning in August.
My only houseplant had died in my absence, withering and drying up into a cracked brown mess. The floors needed vacuuming, and just about every shelf screamed for a good dusting, but I didn’t have the will to clean. The phone rang. I answered and heard the comforting voice of my oldest friend, Thelma.
“Etta, I’m so glad that you’re home!” Thelma gushed as I giggled, both of us transported to our teenage years long before terms like “congestive heart failure” and “overactive thyroid” meant anything.
The grandfather clock struck one, ringing in my ears and forcing me once again to acknowledge the passing of time. “Thelma, what are you doing next weekend?”
Thelma chuckled. “The same thing I did last weekend: watching Netflix and puttering in the rose garden.”
“I’ve got plans for us,” I said mysteriously.
The following weekend, Thelma arrived at my doorstep, and I was glad to see that she was dressed for adventure. She wore sweatpants, a cotton top, gray socks, and sneakers. Handing her a straw hat to complete the outdoorsy outfit, I sprung out of the apartment and into the open air.
“Shall I drive?” I teased as she obliged me and handed me the key to her car.
“If I didn’t know you so well, I’d ask where we’re going,” Thelma quipped.
“But you do know me, so you know I wouldn’t tell you anyway!” I rejoined, loving the feeling of being in the driver’s seat. I hadn’t driven in almost two years, choosing not to replace my ancient Mitsubishi when it finally conked out, but I didn’t remind Thelma of that little detail.
I was grateful that Thelma didn’t ask me any questions, even after we had been on the road for almost three hours. It was early afternoon by the time we arrived at our destination, right around the time that the grandfather clock would be striking one. I was glad I wasn’t home to hear it.
“Oh, I’ve never been here before!” Thelma exclaimed as I parked under a pine tree at the nature preserve.
“We’re going for a hike,” I announced as Thelma’s eyes widened, but she refrained from voicing her worries.
But is your heart strong enough for a hike? I could hear the unspoken question just as surely as though she had shouted it in my ear.
I breathed in the forest air. All my senses were hungering for my natural surroundings, so different from the monochrome walls and bed sheets of the hospital. Vivid green foliage and violet flora ignited my world. I led Thelma up a steep hill that made both of us catch our breath. I looked over my shoulder at my friend, and she offered me a serene smile. She wordlessly revealed her thoughts: I’ll go wherever you go.
As we reached the summit, a breathtaking vista of rolling hills and a crystal-clear lake unfolded before us. The sun was warm on my face, and a gentle breeze tousled my hair. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling the colors of healing wash over me.
Thelma and I sat on a bench overlooking the lake, our feet dangling over the edge. We talked about the past, about our dreams, about everything and nothing all at once. The words flowed freely between us, carrying with them a sense of peace and contentment that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the landscape, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. The burden of illness, of hospital visits, of fear and uncertainty seemed to dissolve into the ether. In that moment, surrounded by the beauty of nature and the warmth of friendship, I knew that I was going to be okay.
Thelma squeezed my hand, her eyes filled with unshed tears. “Thank you, Etta,” she whispered. “For bringing me here, for sharing this with me.”
I smiled at her, feeling my heart swell with gratitude. “Thank you for being here with me, Thelma. For being my rock, my anchor, my light in the darkness.”
As we made our way back to the car, the colors of healing lingered in my mind. The vibrant greens, the deep purples, the golden hues of the setting sun – they all seemed to represent a new beginning, a fresh start. And as I settled back into the passenger seat, feeling the gentle rhythm of the car beneath me, I knew that I was ready to embrace whatever the future held.
The colors of healing surrounded me, filling me with hope and strength. And as Thelma drove us back home, I closed my eyes and let myself drift into a peaceful, healing sleep.
Which sentence best describes how Etta changes over the course of the story?
She starts out happy but ends up depressed.
She starts out depressed, but becomes energized toward the end.
She starts out energized, but becomes depressed toward the end.
She is depressed at the beginning and is more so at the end.
She starts out depressed, but becomes energized toward the end.
Which phrase is an example of personification?
The floors needed vacuuming, and just about every shelf screamed for a good dusting.
I let myself out of the car before Garrett could come around to help me.
She wore sweatpants, a cotton top, gray socks, and sneakers.
I was grateful that Thelma didn’t ask me any questions, even after we had been on the road for almost three hours.
The floors needed vacuuming, and just about every shelf screamed for a good dusting.
Which of the following are conflicts in the passage? Select all that apply.
Etta has an illness she had to be hospitalized for.
It is raining and Etta cannot go hiking.
Etta and Thelma have a disagreement.
Etta is sad that she is growing old.
Etta has an illness she had to be hospitalized for.
Select all that apply.
The conflicts in the passage are:
1. Etta has an illness she had to be hospitalized for.