"In the Middle of It All," by Elizabeth Wheeler

I couldn’t find my way to the door some days nor could I find my way down the hall. If it occurred to me to open my eyes I might even have found my own way out of my own way. But the funny thing is, most days that just didn’t occur to me. Some days I could feel the cold air blowing in my face and you know how much I hate, really hate, the cold air in my face. Why didn’t you stop the cold air blowing? Why didn’t you close the door? Or steer me down a different hallway? What? You say you tried. You say you pointed me in a different direction but you didn’t think I could hear you. I was in a world of my own. Yet you never gave up. You kept trying to steer the boat. Be the captain in the middle of the rough rocky sea. In the middle of it all, there I was. I finally saw you, heard you, crawled out of my world. In the middle of it all, I found the door. The hallway straightened, the cold wind turned warm, I opened my eyes.