This particular hospital remains in my memory because of its garden. It was well kept and must have been planned by somebody who not only loved nature, but understood the need for the peace and tranquility that patients haunted by voices and other terrors need. Creepers covered fences and walls, and flowers bloomed in profusion amongst bushes and rocks.
I remember how touched I’d been when my son plucked a deep, pink rose from a bush in the garden and handed it to me. That simple gesture is a memory that I wished I could bottle for future use.
I remember one tree in particular. A part of its trunk had a hollowed out portion that was being used as a trash can for papers and candy wrappers but one had to peer inside to see this so it did not disturb anyone. We never sat in the garden for long as David felt the need to walk and walk and walk. He missed his dog, a Belgian Shepherd who was his constant and faithful walking companion at home.
