Eastern State

I volunteered at Eastern State, the regional mental hospital near the campus of William and Mary. I could walk there from my dorm. Playing and singing for blank-faced patients seated in dimly-lit, sparsely furnished rooms frightened me. Often there were no attendants or caregivers present. Just me.
​
But when I saw a smile emerge from the darkness or heard a lone voice sing along with me, my fears vanished.

A college friend told me about this volunteer opportunity at the mental hospital. Something led me to blindly show up and do my thing. There was no orientation or preparation by the staff. I just took off with my guitar down the hall to the assigned room, pulled a chair in front of the group, sat down, and began. Guts or God? Or something else?