A Reason for Living

           One of my conditions for release from the mental hospital was to make a list of “reasons to live.”  I thought about it for days and came up with nothing.  On the last day, I was sitting in the day room, coloring pictures in the corner, and I looked out the window.  The grounds of the hospital were beautiful.  A stream meandered peacefully through the green yard, with a little waterfall and a foot bridge.  Weeping willows hung over wooden benches all along the stream, and it was gorgeous.  I did not have outside privileges, I was too high risk, I suppose.  But I loved to sit in the day room and watch the mallards swimming and splashing in the stream and walking in the grass.  They were so beautiful, so majestic.  I realized that simple beauty like this is everywhere, so for my first reason to live I wrote, “the prospect of seeing mallards every day.”  I was released soon after.