I have no memory of anything before this moment in time. I opened my eyes and here I was. In this white padded…room? Yes, a room, that must be what this place is called. Even though it’s rather small to be a room. Yet, I find the fact that I can identify this box as a room to be reassuring. Well, it gives me some encouragement at the very least.
I am suddenly conscious of my cognitive process. I can form words…form coherent thoughts…the word education comes to me….
But education from where? I understand all the connotations that come with the word, but without any memories, it is nothing more than a dictionary definition in the colorless textbook of my mind. As I lay here, reflecting upon the meaning of the word, a gradual calm spreads through my tense muscles, a relief that I seem to be educated. I will need all the education I can rouse to get out of here.
It seems impossible really.
An enigma. A riddle without an answer. No, not a riddle—a joke. A cruel joke played at my expense.
I’m stuck in this room with no windows and no doors. This white padded cell holds me prisoner. The reason? I still can’t fathom why I’m here, or how I came to be trapped in the first place. I know I must have been somewhere before this moment in time.
Birth.
The simple definition is recalled from the back of my mind. I understand that I must have been born at some point, but a startling image comes with this word. I can see a woman—no, not any woman—a wife.
My wife.
Abruptly, I remember the pain of her squeezing my hand. I remember her harsh words screamed at me in the delivery room. I remember the smell of sweat and blood as she brought our child into the world.
Our child. Our son.
Birth: the word now has context for me. Unlike the word education which still rests numb on my tongue, despite the feeling that comes with the word. The feeling like I’m missing something.
Work. This word also holds no meaning for me, yet somehow the two words are connected. Work and education. Odd that these words hold no recollection for me…no sudden memory presents itself for my viewing.
Birth, wife, child, son…these are the words that mean something to me, even if I still can’t remember, can’t fully comprehend, their significance.
Love.
That’s it. That’s the importance behind these words. The significance that is missing from my other vocabulary. A factor that only increases my need to get out of here. To escape from this white-cushioned confine.
I reassess my predicament, trying to use what education I can muster to attempt an escape. There must be a way out of this container. But as my sight adjusts to my dark surroundings, a new word comes to me—a new word that ceases all prospect, nay, all hope at escape. A new word which better defines this white-padded prison where I will spend the remainder of my days.
