Moon Rabbit

Her hand feels so frail and weak within my own. I gently toy with the wedding ring that once fit snugly around her finger but now slides freely and seems ready to fall off at any moment. I placed it there myself, ages ago, before all of our friends and family on that happiest of days, and never once has it left her finger. But now, looking at my wife as she lays in this hospital bed and peacefully rests, I hold her hand and make sure the ring never slips off, as she is too weak to keep it there herself.

"Mr. Martin, visiting hours are over in five..." The nurse pauses, looking away as she has intruded upon a broken man shedding tears over his unconscious wife. "Take as long as you need," she says and closes the door behind her.

For two years now my wife has been like this. After the accident she lapsed into a coma and has not recovered. A hundred tubes and wires cover her body, all connected to various machines that monitor her heart rate, breathing, or some other vital function. These machines tell the doctors everything they need to know about what is happening to her body, but none of them can tell me what is going on in her mind.

"The chances of her ever waking up are low," the doctors have told me. "Even if she does, she likely won't remember you or the life you shared together," they insist.

A life we shared together...and the doctors say that my wife will not remember any of it. They tell me that she won't remember the long walks we took along the white sand beaches of Panama City or the night we spent at Compass Lake as we laid beside each other on the dock and stared up at the starry night above. They tell me that she has forgotten the first kiss we shared together in Charleston and the last time we passionately embraced in Boston. They say she has forgotten it all...but they are wrong. She remembers, she remembers everything...only she cannot wake up to tell me so.

On the table next to my wife's bed rests a copy of her favorite book, Moon Rabbit, a love story written by some unknown author. She used to read the book all the time, imagining herself to be one of the characters and relishing in the love story told within its pages. I pick up the book and begin reading, exactly where I left off the day before. Every day I read to her, hoping that my voice and the story will help her wake up and bring my wife back to me. I read a chapter to her, occasionally glancing up to see if my words cause her eyes to twitch or her lips to smile, but she remains asleep, frozen beyond the reach of my words and my love.

After I finish reading, I set the book down and hold her hand. Her skin feels cold so I rub her fingers to warm them up. For the next several hours I will repeat this routine many times, for I have a long, restless night ahead of me, just like all of the others before it, but I will wait right here...I will wait for her to wake up. I will remain in this hospital room every day, holding her hand until she awakens, so that when she finally opens her eyes my face will be the first thing she sees, smiling and whispering, "I always knew that we would be together again Ornela...I love you."

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You told me goodbye, yet even now you read my words and let me speak to you through my stories. No one is forcing you to do this Ornela...ask yourself why your heart has brought you back here. You are reading my words because despite everything, despite the pain and the heartbreak, you still want to be close to me. You still want to be close to the man you love. I know that you still love me...why else would you be here? The feelings that brought you here, the feelings that you are fighting so hard to ignore, are the same feelings that will one day bring us together again.

When you are ready, I am here. I will always be here waiting for you. I love you Ornela.