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Five Senses.

I want a cure tonight.

I want it so badly I can taste it tonight. It tastes like black raspberry ice cream from St. Claire’s Annex in Watch Hill, all creamy and cold. It tastes slightly salty, like my skin after a day at the beach. It doesn’t taste at all like airplane glue or sweaters on my teeth after a few hours of a high bloodsugar. It doesn’t taste bitter, like the chocolate flavor on the back of my tongue after sneaking Halloween candy as a child.

I want it so badly I can feel it tonight. It feels like his strong hands on my shoulders, easing out the stress of the day. It feels free and almost scary, like standing on the top deck of the Block Island Ferry and leaning over just that little bit as the boat cruises towards shore. It doesn’t ache, like my stomach as I drive to Joslin or the eye doctor. It doesn’t burn, like my conscience often does when I think of the unfocused, foolish choices I’ve made regarding my health.

I want it so badly I can hear it tonight. It sounds like Siah sleeping on my pillow at night, gently purring in my ear. It sounds like that first cry my nephew wailed, piercing the night with his brand new voice. It doesn’t sound like the beep beep beep of Charlene as she counts up the correction tally. It sounds nothing like my voice shaking as I admit to the precursors of complications to my doctor.

I want it so badly I can smell it tonight. It smells like Ivory soap. It smells like a dozen unexpected roses brightening a dreary office. The scent isn’t even reminiscent of that dentist smell emitting from a broken bottle of insulin. It smells nothing like fear.

I want a cure so badly I can almost see it tonight.
It looks like my healthy body.
It looks like my healed fingertips.
It looks like my smile.
It looks like my pump, tucked inside an old jewelry box for the rest of my life.
It looks like my wedding.
It looks like my child.

It looks like my future.

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