I am thankful for walks on spring days as I recover from this long illness. I dreamed about such things as I lay on the couch hardly able to make my way around the house.

I first became sick just before my 15th birthday. I was nothing but a child, really, innocent and eager-eyed, unscarred by any real hardships. Like a weak and tiny bird that had to break through its egg, I had to struggle through my illness.

I Have Been Ill for a Long Time

Sky sends water to

parched ground, day's heat relieves, steam

rises, robins sing

and feast on worms. I

am lying, watching out the

window; my heart's stream

bed fills and I know

that there are some things even

sickness can't dry up.

It was a struggle in every way. It was a struggle to preserve my spirit as everything fell apart, and I slipped downward into a place of pain, confusion and weariness.

"This is not the way," I often uttered, especially in that lonely hospital room with the all-too cheerful pictures on the wall. I wanted to be anywhere but in the midst of sickness, of blood tests, CT scans, SPECT scans, cardiograms. I wasn't supposed to be sick. I was supposed to be normal, like everyone else, complaining about school, sitting around laughing with my friends.

I was sick for over half my high school years. I couldn't go to school at all, until now, what would have been my senior year. I am not graduating. I have accepted this fact, so that it does not prick me anymore when I hold it. But it is a fact; I will not wear a cap and gown, will not march with the classmates I have known for 13 years, will not receive a diploma. It seems as if my high school years barely began and now they're over. Now I must shut a door I hardly opened. There is no ceremony to help me do it.

So, I think about what I've lost and what I've gained. Sometimes it is hard to know where this experience fits in with my life, and where my life fits in with this experience. It is hard to know where my experience fits in with everyone else's.

I'm walking with the eggshell held out before me; it rests gently in my hand. I pass by an old couple and a young woman. They are standing in their driveway next to a car with a New York license plate. They all look sad, especially the couple. The young woman hugs first the man and then the woman. They are saying goodbye.

I feel awkward walking through the scene, like I don't belong. But then I look down and I see the eggshell in my hands. I smile as I realize the connection. The young woman is leaving the nest and I am marching through with a broken egg. I am part of this; I belong in this impromptu ceremony, even though they're not aware of it.

I realize it can be my ceremony, too. I have broken through to a new beginning. I have graduated; this is the way. I am headed in the right direction. I belong here, right where I am.