Descriptive Essay On A Missing Home

I longed for something. There was a horrid feeling of emptiness. Why, I had no idea. Have I always felt this way, I wondered. Something was missing and it etched at my heart every second that was not preoccupied. I found myself having to work harder and longer to avoid such moments. I knew that I’d lost my memory, every moment of just about my entire life missing, but there was something else wrong that I just couldn’t quite put my finger on.
Ten months ago I woke up to find myself in an unfamiliar environment. Bright lights, white walls and machinery surrounded me. Multiple tubes were attached to my arms and a strongly clinical scent overwhelmed me. I’d been told that I had been in a coma for nearing three months, following a major car accident.

I had many questions but no words to put them in. I was shown to my room and I sat down on the single bed with a bedside table beside it as I took in my surroundings. The light blue painted walls were decorated with numerous picture frames and a few painting and drawings here and there. A large window behind my bed showed me what looked like a playground with a swing and small jungle gym. To the right of the entrance stood an oak table with chipboard on it balanced against the wall and a black chair. A set of three drawers was on the opposite side of the room and that was pretty much it. I stood up and made my way to the photos on the wall. Many of them had me in it, along with a few children, Janice and another unfamiliar man who looked to be in his fifties. I traced my hand along them, hoping the moments from those photos would somehow magically transfer themselves into my memories. Tears began to brim in my eyes but I quickly blinked them away when I heard footsteps come into the room. I turned to see Janice with a glass in her

I thanked her and glanced towards the picture frames again.
“Who are you?” I was blunt and could see that the question had hurt her feelings but it didn’t seem like she was going to tell me if I didn’t ask.
“I’m Janice. I’ve looked after you ever since you were a baby. I fed you, changed your diapers, taken care of you when you were ill and watched you grow into the fine young man you are today.” Tears were starting to brim in her eyes again. I wasn’t too sure how to proceed after her rather straightforward answer.
“I’m sorry,” I finally said and set the glass on the bedside table.
“What are you sorry for?”
“Not remembering who you are and what you’ve done for me. I know this must be really hard for you, but I promise I’ll try my best to treat you the way I used to, as if nothing ever happened. That is, with a little help of course.” I wanted everything to be as normal as it could be. I didn’t want anyone to be upset because I didn’t say or do what I ordinarily would’ve. I needed people to tell me who I was before things took a turn for the worst, to help me remember so that no one would be left